


Honeysuckle

by B_Uthoughtwrong



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Graphic Description, Pining, Reader dies, Reader-Insert, Tagging as I go, Weird love pairings, a bunch of times, reader has enhanced senses, the boys are whipped for reader, vampire!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 29,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23262763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Uthoughtwrong/pseuds/B_Uthoughtwrong
Summary: I don't know how Bruce Wayne wound up believing I needed help, financially in all ways, but that's how it ended up. Perhaps I should've mentioned to him that money was the last thing I worried about as my life as a vampire.
Relationships: Basically bat fam/reader but i promise it aint weird, Bruce Wayne/Reader, Damian Wayne/Reader, Dick Grayson/Reader, Jason Todd/Reader, Tim Drake/Reader
Comments: 179
Kudos: 553





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, idk honestly why ive never seen this type of fic for bruce before when its like obvious. Sugar Daddy bruce is litterally like such an obvious plot ????
> 
> As with the vampire part, I tried to make the character as racially ambiguous as possible, but like i had to put come sort of background behind her.
> 
> And pardon my mangling of history and facts okay.

Bruce Wayne should've stayed on his side of the road. If he had, I wouldn't be here right now, kneeling on the floor with a knife to my neck, with some psycho old man threatening to kill me if I don't tell him either the location of the fountain of youth, or the secret to immortality, both questions I do not know the answer to.

But then again, I suppose, this was the painfully obvious sign that in this long life I've lived, it's time I meet my end.  
For now, let’s start at the beginning.

  
  
It was approximately three thousand years ago when I saved my younger sister from palace guards. She had told me that she upset one of them by accidentally tripping him, and she ran away in fear of his anger. I believed her. A few days later, she was found, and our entire family was taken. We faced our tribe's leader.

My old mother and father begged for our lives. The chief of the guards silenced them by pointing his men’s swords to their necks.

"She stole a basket of fruits and three loaves of bread!" our leader fumed.

The truth came crashing down on all of us like a lampshade being thrown out of a window by an angry Czech artist. _But that is another story._

I turned to my sister, my only sibling, in disbelief. The angered look on her face made me realize that our leader was the one speaking the truth. "I only stole back what you have been stealing from us!"

"We are not thieves, girl!" my mother whined in frustration.

Then with a swift blow, my mother was killed. A guard shouted, "I told you to shut up!"

It was then my father stood to attack, only to as well receive a fatal blow and join my mother in death. Our leader was about to give the order to kill my sister, when I stood and claimed responsibility over her actions, "I'm willing to take any punishment you have for her!"

My sister turned to me and looked at me with sorrowful eyes. She spoke no word, but I knew what she was asking, why?  
I’d never get to answer.

Our leader then stood and raised his hand to me, in what would in a thousand years after would be called a Death Choke in a sci-fi film called Star Wars. "Then suffer eternally for her sins." 

  
In an instant, my sister's head was rolling on the floor, and I was shrivelling in pain.

  
  
The next thing I knew I woke up in a dessert, practically dying from thirst. No recollection of what happened between my sister’s death and my reason to be in such a place. I wandered, and wander, praying for an oasis. Tragically, I found one in a man amidst his travel with his donkey. In my desperation, I attacked and drank his blood.  
His donkey screeched and ran.

  
It was then as I knelled on the parched sand a thousand questions bubbled through my mind. It was then that I realized what I had done, what I had become. A monster.   
There are still so many questions to be asked. But I think that is no longer important to you.

  
I—I tried to exile myself to die, except... I couldn't.


	2. A Trail To B: From Damian

The years after that are far too long to recount. I had become a thousand different people, lived in shadows of many different times. But now, in this life where I meet a peculiar Bruce Wayne we start with the day I met his calculating son, Damian.

With the ring of a bell, he stepped into the cafe of my employment smelling like asphalt and baby powder. He had incredibly scrutinising eyes.

"I'd like to order a chocolate muffin," the boy said. I glance up at him—brown eyes, black hair, evenly light olive skin.

I smiled and nodded, getting him the biggest muffin we had. I placed it on a plate and tray. I wrung up his order. I received his exact payment and barely brushed my fingertips on his palm. And yet I felt the shift in his pheromones, and saw the electricity rippling underneath his skin.

Of course this humanly invisible phenomenon simply meant he was forming what the kids call a crush. He didn't know it yet. But I did, which was why I refused to smile at him another time. It was when he uncharacteristically introduced himself, "My name is Damian Wayne," that he sealed the deal with himself mentally.

I looked at him with the same expression—hollow, distant, and decided to lightly raise a corner of my lips, "Hello, Damian Wayne."

My lack of a reciprocation of an introduction embarrassed him.

With that he scurried off with his muffin.

I hoped it was the last of him. Knowing the scent of him, he was the persistent kind.

Disappointingly, yet unsurprisingly, the next time he was around, he put in a good three blocks between us and watched me from a bench across the street. I decided he was very much harmless, most of my admirers are… well, up until they’re not, and so I did what I always did. I worked my shift, smiled, remained blank to blatant flirting, and made coffee with the exception of heating pastries.

The time after that however, I accidentally made eye contact with Damian while he was eating a hot dog, and it nearly made him choke. I could hear his blush from a mile away and I felt so guilty.

By the time he went back in to order a muffin, I smiled properly at him and heard his heart pound. He cleared his throat and raised a bouquet of flowers. They smelt near death, but were lovely nonetheless. I could hear my boss whisper, "Not again" from the kitchen.

"Would you like your muffin to go?" I asked as I got the flowers from him.

I could practically hear his panicked train of thought. On the surface, he was as cool as a cucumber though, "No. For here please."

I nodded and wrung up his order for the last time. After my shift later that day, I took a week off. My boss apologized to me, knowing well I didn't like it when I got this unnecessary attention. I've had it since the day I worked here five months ago.

Of course, it was unavoidable with me, and it was good for his business. I only pretended it made me more uncomfortable that it made me feel. It truth, I wasn't bothered at all, since I’ve had to deal with it for goodness knows how long.

Simply, I didn't want the focused attention that could mean people talking about me.

Why?

Well… I have an older brother that wants to kill me.

 _Sigh_.

But of course I do.

What kind of vampire doesn’t have a complicated past. _Shudder_. I don’t really like calling myself a _vampire_. But I suppose it’s the easiest way to explain it.


	3. A Trail To B: Dick

Anyway, anyway… to preoccupy myself with yet another vacant week, I fly overseas to learn a new thing or two in Oxford. It smells nice there. My vampire siblings think otherwise, which makes it better for me.

It’s interesting to know that the same concepts are passed down from generation to generation change, mostly for the better, between each of them. What I enjoy the most is how humanity interprets philosophy. The same thoughts by the same dead people catastrophically different between it’s original thought and now.

It’s not that they get it wrong and change it, it’s just that it’s all relayed in another manner.

Except as I sit in class with a snob professor blabbering about Aristotle, I am appalled when he swerves to talk about Confucius. At first, he says a widely believed speculation, but then he claims outrageous things about his teachings. I lose my composure and burst out with the truth.

“False. Confucius could never have said anything about that topic, because the idea hadn’t existed in the time he was alive.” I push myself off my chair and continue. The snob of a teacher rebuts me, to which I find myself scoffing and replying in a foreign tongue—ancient Chinese language that is.

In my frustration, I clench my teeth and walk out of the room.

 _“And how would **you** know this?” _the dissonant voice of the idiot man rang in my ear. I’m pretty sure I’d know the words of my own friend, my own teacher.

It was unexpected that this man jumps in front of me, actually surprising me—winded, long hair messy, eyes and lips playfully curved.

“That was quite a speech,” he says, American accented, exhaling, “you walk _really fast._ ”

I knit my brows, deducting he was a student in that wretched philosophy class. “What language were you speaking, because I know some variation of Chinese, and it didn’t sound anything I knew.”

He was amusing, and so I humoured him, “It’s a dead language, but I’m sure google translate can help you with it.”

He hums and nods. I decide he’s handsome, with his blue eyes, dark hair, a combination I very much favor, and remember his face. “My name’s Richard. People call me Dick.”

I look at him for a moment, trying to pinpoint where I’ve smelled his scent before. But then I realize I can’t, because I haven’t. He however smells strangely similar to Damian. Not biologically… superficially. I suppose he is a Wayne.

“Do you know why your nickname is Dick?” I ask for no particular reason personally.

He suppresses an eyeroll but does not forfeit a sigh, “Why?”

“Letter swapping.” I say simply, “it used to be Rich, then Rick, then Dick.”

He pulled his head back, “Really?”

I nod. A fraction of his face twitches in awe. It’s enough for me to know he’s fond of me. I decide to push past him. He stops me by going in my way again, “Wait. What’s your name? why have I never noticed you before?”

“I like to keep to myself—” I walk past him again, “lovely chat.”

He tries to follow after me, but by the time, I take a corner turn, I bolt. He didn’t stand a chance.

I sneak into another class and turn to my right to see the same man from before. “You didn’t answer my first question,” he asks without turning to me.

I inhale sharply at the symphony of inequalities being presented in front. He continues, further clarifying, “Your name…”

“Confucius.”

He finally turns to me and gulps upon seeing my stare. I blink, “Confucius’ friend.”

He relents, “Alright Confucius Friend.”

The moment he looks away from me, we establish a connection. How… distressing. “Right,” I say and stand from my seat, “good day to you sir.”

He doesn’t have the heart to walk out of the advanced Algebra class. An intellectual.

During the next week, he tries to start conversations. Instead of trying to shoo him away, I give him dead answers, ones he can’t make new conversations out of. Initially, it was easy to get him to stop and go away. However somehow he found persistence when I lost my temper over some false idea he presented to me.

Of course, I had to correct his young mind. It was my mistake, because since then, he kept trying to grind my gears.

And so I retreated back to my café.

The moment I stepped back in; the lingering smell of Damian was everywhere. He likely examined the place in my absence. This was raising a yellow flag. So I quit.


	4. A Trail To B: Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes i just cant do regular updates
> 
> regular huh

I take a stroll downtown to go have lunch and read the newspaper. I look at the job section.

_Hiring a friendly, people-oriented clerk with minimal knowledge of instruments, records, and music at 8CTAVE Music Store, 8002-A Dalton corner, 5 th Avenue, Gotham City. Work schedule and salary to be negotiated._

Good enough for me.

I now work at 8CTAVE music shop.

Yes, yes, I’m sure you’ve thunk I don’t actually need a job, but I’d rather do something with my days than nothing. And I have rather liked this Gotham music store. It used to be home to one policeman I knew. Somehow that fact alone attracted me to it.

So now I stand in front of the counter

“Do you guys have any -“ I turn and look at the speaker. He breaks his sentence to say, “h-hi.”

I smile at him, “Good afternoon sir. May I help you with anything?”

“Yes, uh, I’m… looking for,” the man looks around him nervously and spots a small box. “yeah, I’m looking for one of those.” He points behind me. I turn and see the stack of long, slim boxes, “Ah, a harmonica.”

“Yes. Yes.”

I nod, believing his phony statement. I knit my brows lightly, breathing again a similar scent in the air. _How many sons does this Wayne have?_ I get him a box and show him the brand, “This is a Timothy harmonica. It’s made in the US, which is a bit more expensive to its Yamaha counterpart. However, it feels heavier in your hand.”

“Ah, I like me a good timothy, considering it is my name.” he chuckles and gets the box from me. I hum. He turns to me, “You can call me Tim, though.” I assess him and purse my lips in a polite smile. From the symmetry of his face and the smoothness of his skin, he seems to me like the type who has a vocabulary stuck on his tongue—like osteoporosis, or harlequinade, or tintinnabulation.

He examines the box and retrieves the instrument.

“Sir, if you play it, you have to buy it.”

He runs his hand through dark hair, seemingly by habit, and nods, “Does that apply to the guitars as well?”

I offer a pout, “well, not unless you lick it.”

He laughs softly, “Hey,” he points the wind instrument to me, “you wouldn’t know anyone who plays this? I’m kind of trying to look for a new hobby.”

I knit my brows at his statement. A good cover for an elaborate lie. But then, I suppose it could be true, or become true. Personally, I’ve enjoyed some good tunes with harmonicas.

“Look no further, I can play it.”

He seems thoroughly surprised, “Really?”

I nod.

“You mind showing me?”

I shake my head, “I’d have to buy it, and I’m here to work, not buy.”

“If you can play it, _I’ll_ buy it.”

I lean over the counter, “Do you swear?”

“Woah, _swear?_ Well, I guess I do.” He mutters an _f-u-c-k_ under his breath and chuckles. I pretend not to hear it. I grab the object from him and purse my lips over my teeth and play. Avoid salivating as much I can. At first I try to get my bearing in, feel it out; it has been, what five hundred years since I’ve played it? But I do it anyway.

Agreeably, I was slightly pitchy, but it seems to be music to this child’s ears and any stray note fell through his ear drums.

My lips part from the instrument. “Hold on,” I say, as I go back to my bag and grab some tissues and alcohol to disinfect it. I clean it as thoroughly as I can and go back to him. I don’t even bother speaking and retrieve the box back, placing the harmonica in, and wringing up his instrument.

“Do you take credit?”

I turn to him and nod. He hands me his card. I give it back along with a bag and a receipt.

He looks at his bag and turns to me, “Actually, do you have any recommendations. I want to buy some records too, y’know, live the hipster life.”

I tilt my head and nod, “What are you looking for?”

He smirks, “uh… I dunno. Can I ask for something you personally like?”

“What?”

“Is… there anything here _you_ listen to.”

I shrug, “I’ve listened to all of them.”

 _“All of them?_ ”

“And they all have their charm.”

Tim scratches his nose, “you’re very charming…”

I blink at him and his obliviously loving expression and sigh. I guess I have to quit my job again, huh?


	5. A Trail To B: Jason

Alright, I wasn’t so hasty to actually quit my job again. I simply gave a notice that I was terribly, _terribly_ sick, and that I needn’t be paid on my time off. Hopefully, by the time I’m _better_ , that Tim boy would’ve lost interest.

Currently, I was roaming the streets of Gotham, tentatively looking for a place to work, until I saw a flyer that was advertising a basketball game between Gotham University and College of Metropolis City, G.U. and C.M.C., for short.

I then decided to pay a visit to G.U., for old time’s sake. The school was pretty much the same from back when I worked here. True there were new buildings and whatnot, but the atmosphere was the same. As I roamed the halls, I spotted an old colleague of mine back fifty years ago. She seemed still so strong though her hair was platinum white now. Her name is Anabeth Riley and teaches specifically World Myths & Folktales. I wonder if she ever got married.

I kept my distance from her, as she walked, even as she entered her class. I slipped to the back of her room and found myself smiling upon hearing her discussion. She reeked of sophistication and experience, yet her eyes still gleamed the same way they did years ago.

Truly it was my mistake of over-staying until she called for her class to pair up for a project.

“Hi,” someone speaks beside me. I had no seatmates, so I was definitely surprised by his voice. He had successfully snuck up on me. I gasp when I turned to him. He chuckles softly, “sorry if I startled you.”

“I’m impressed you could. Not many can.”

He smirks and takes the seat next to me, “I’m glad I’m special so early.”

I raise my brows at his words. He only chuckles once more and offers his hand, “Jason Todd.”

_Todd?_

I examine his hand, noting he had a strong grip and apparent veins on them. I take it in mine and shake it, inhaling deeply when he leans into my touch. I pull away at his scent and furrow my brows. Unmistakenly, he smelled similar to that of the Damian child, and surely his brothers Richard and Timothy. Was I wrong to bind them together. “so… are you the only child?”

He tilts his head with a soft smile, “trying to get to know me already?”

“I’m curious to what your personality is,” _Well, that’s half a lie._ _What_ _I really want to know is if you are_ too _a Wayne,_ _like my hunch_.

Jason sighs and scratches the back of his neck, “Sadly, I have three idiot brothers who suck out my life force.”

There it is. They are adoptive brothers. I am satisfied with my conclusion. I let out a breath, “Chi.”

_“What?”_

“Some people refer to life force as chi,” I say, standing from my seat. I've about had enough of this and him and his brothers now, thank you. Jason looks up at me concerned. I make my way out of the room.

I sigh when he follows after me. _What exactly was this luck of mine with these boys?_ Jason knits his brows, clutching my wrist. I pull away from him and raise my brows expectantly.

“Are you cutting class?”

I roll my eyes and walk away from him. He, like his brother, blocks me. The streak of grey hair on top of his forehead is covered by the black around it in his actions. He knits his thick brows and clenches his strong jaw. “You aren’t even in that class, are you?”

I’ll give it to him for being more rightly accusing than his brother.

Still I don’t reply, and thankfully Jason doesn’t follow.

Except he does, all the way back to my tiny apartment in Gotham from the rooftops in his night attire. Only Jason knows this, and he has a plan on how to score some digits.


	6. Thus, The Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's kinda been boring  
> but i guess thats only up to this point  
> cos something is happening now

The rickety sound of a shopping cart being pushed rang in my ears. Indeed, it was annoying, especially to my senses, but I had gotten used to it. All of the carts in this blasted supermarket was like that, but the one I was pushing was the least of them. I’m quite sure most humans wouldn’t even notice.

I walk to the cereal isle and get a box of my favourite corn cereal. I walk around and receive a good morning from one of the employees named Bella. I smile back at her and realise she was a week pregnant and unknowing of it most likely.

My lips part at the knowledge, but I mind my own business and go off to get some milk.

Twas then I saw a back of someone that seemed familiar. Once he turned, I gripped my cart tightly, knowing this was certainly no coincidence. Still, I walk by him and fake looking at some fruits.

He then turns to me and splendidly acts out, “hey!”

I turn to him and blink for effect. I point and smile softly, “Jason?”

“Yeah, from Mrs. Riley’s class,” he clarifies, “funny to see you here. I release a sigh and pretend to as well find amusement in out predicament. Somehow, I think he notices my lack of belief. He aimlessly walks over, “I was actually practicing some hits in the baseball range close to hear,” he raises what was in his hand, “came here for a snack.”

My silence is need for him to further bait me in, “I’m part of the baseball team,” he shrugs, “if you didn’t know.”

I narrow my eyes and find myself chuckling at his preposterous lie. “Oh, are you now.”

Jason finds my challenging words arousing his resolve, “I am.” He raises a brow, “actually, we have a competition against the folks in Star City. Would you like to watch them lose against me?”

I chuckle and shake my head, “hard pass, son.”

He pulls his head, thinking the only person who called him that, _and should_ , was his dad, and not a pretty girl. Jason shakes his head and jogs up to me, “then how about I help you with your groceries.”

I side eye him, “do I look old to you?”

“No, ma’am,” he smiles, “you look like a vision of youth.”

Blasts, I couldn’t hold in my laugh. Jason reveled in the sound of it. I cover my mouth and try to hide my chuckles, but his cocky and goofy expression just keeps them coming. I remember the first time a man told me this. I had just turned fifty at the time and yet my face was the same as when I was a young woman. It was when a boy, just finished with puberty, asked if he could see me every day. I had asked him how I appeared to him, and those words he said.

I roll my eyes at the memory and move away from Jason. Strengthened because of my reaction, he follows closely. I throw him a look and take down his non-existent chance, “Look. I know what you’re doing, and let me tell you that I am not interested in being in a relationship with you.”

Jason falters for a moment, but instead he laughs it off, “what a way to destroy a guy.”

“I can do much worse,” I reply, walking off and paying him no mind.

His adrenaline spikes at the challenge and I curse his genes for being so. I decide to lie then, “I have a boyfriend.”

Jason freezes, but raises a brow, “no you don’t. If you did, you would’ve led with that and not being interested.”

Must I suffer like this when I already had a rickety wheeled cart?

“I have not reason to prove myself to you, so leave me be.”

Jason grabs my cart, forcing me to turn to him. “How can I when you carry yourself the way you do and say leave me be as if you were from a Victorian novel.”

Fuck. I let go of my shopping cart, and walk away as quickly as I could from him until I exited the place. Of course, he follows me out, but thanks to the other shoppers and my quick senses, I got away and flew off once I was outside the supermarket.

Yes, I could fly, amongst my other supernatural powers.

What I couldn’t do, was make a mark bigger than I already have. I have to disappear or else my brother will find me.

Alright, I agree you need to learn about him now. He is not my kin through my parents, goodness no. He is my brother through blood, vampire blood. From what we know there were ten of us in the world, and four of them have already died, two by the hands of my brother himself. He and I rivalled each other in age, though we are not certain who is older. All of whom followed are a millennium, or more, younger. He took it upon himself to be the law of our kind, to bring a balance if any of us stepped out of line.

True, what I was doing was not in any way destructive, but he was someone I no longer wished to be tied to. And living loudly will draw him to me. What use then have my efforts been to cut him off?

No. I will not associate myself with him.

Therefore, I must hide completely again. Change my look and identity, go off the grid. Doing so was much easier before identification passes existed. Now I have to go below the law to secure myself a new quiet life.

So later that night, I went underground. Not literally, for ironically I had to go to the top floor of a fifty leveled building. I went thorough a security check and scan, then made my way into the floor made into a bar, casino, stripper dance house, you know, _the works._ The place was dark, dimly lit with low violet and candle lights.

I make my way through the sea of people and stay hidden behind the collar of my trench coat as much as possible.

From what it smells like, it seems a lot of high-profile crooks were here tonight. Perhaps it was the wrong day to do this, but I was already here, so I shouldn’t waste my time.

I go into a room by the corner of the bar and find myself face to face with a bunch of teenaged boys glued to their desktop computers. I knock on the door, though it was already open, and I was in, to catch their attention. I am ignored still. I speak up, “I’m here for a passport.”

One of them slowly turns to me, then abruptly stands. His face is littered with acne, and I can tell he only ate burgers and coke all day. I await his reply, but he panics and rasps out, grabbing one of the guys by his collar, _“Lepa devojka je ovde. Pomozite mi.”_

I understand his Serbian tongue, “the pretty girl is here. Help me.”

I reply in the same language, _“I need my passport.”_ I raise my hand to him. The two turn to me and I look expectantly. The one who spoke shifts and clears his throat, _“yo-you speak Serbian?”_

 _“As do you,”_ I shrug, _“I’m only here for my passport.”_

He then shuffles and hands me what I came for. I place it in the pocket of my trench coat. And at the very same time, there is a loud commotion outside the door. There is a symphonic destruction of glass, furniture, grunts, screams, and guns. The boys in the room panic and begin to scream, _“backup everything!”_

I decide it’s my time to leave.

Once I open the door, I see flashes of guns and smoke. I see acrobatic lunges and sword wooshing. I feel my heartbeat quicken. I grab my chest and try to get out of here without interrupting anyone.

I sneak behind the bar, crouched down, and pass a few shrieking, half-dressed women. I dodge debris that is shooting around and find myself needing to pass through a field of brawling figures. I pull my head back at the cape I see flying around—capes.

I dash back when a body nearly hurtles into me. I shove it away and dare to move through the place as quickly as I could. And mind you I could move quickly. It is one of my other powers, but somehow, I get myself caught, or more accurately my clothing in splintered wood of a broken table. It effectively hook into my coat because of how much force I exerted. I hiss and decide to lose my coat altogether for it was not worth it.

But my decision came a literal second to late, as I was unable to move out of the way of a body slamming into me. I gasped when a spike of wood ripped into my side. The man who had pushed it accidentally to my belly turn to me with his mask covered face.

We see eye to eye, and I smell his immense agitation and shock. It was Dick underneath the ridiculous costume. I pushed myself off the spike and gripped my bleeding side.

“Are you okay?” he asks. But my instinct did not allow him an answer, not because they told me not to do so, but because they told me to push him out of the way before a dagger went through his head.

I whined and walked past him, though I was losing so much blood and feeling in my legs. This was the dreadful part that I hated so. Feeling what it is to die, but still waking up after.

And like a fool my body gives in before I even come near the exit. All is faded to black.


	7. Aftermath

I wake up… momentarily. My mind is clouded still. I need to erase it with more sleep.

“I’m telling you, master Grayson,” a calm, deep, English voice calls, “she is 100% fine. No major injuries aside from a few cuts and bruises. She probably collapsed in shock, or fatigue.”

My eyes are too heavy to open. I barely see the silhouette of the place, let alone the setting which I was in. Surely I was no longer in the wretched floor of vices, but I was confused with the smell. Certainly, there was a beep of a heart monitor and yet I am unsure if I was in a hospital, clinic, or someone’s home. Maybe it was something all at once, or even none at all.

There are more voices. There is a sound of bickering. But the last thing I hear in this, is a stern voice, silencing the weaker voices with a firm statement. What he said however, I did not have the cognization to identify.

When my eyelids flutter fully open. I am in another room, for the feeling of the cushion underneath me was different, and the ambience was too.

I sit up and smell the breakfast being had rooms away. I realize I am in different clothes. I take in the large, high ceiling room. I had not been in a place such as this for a long time. There is peace and tranquillity around. The furniture felt homey and elegant. Surely, I was in an affluent mansion. I hear a shuffle in the distant hallway. I catch sight of the hidden camera by the ceiling and fake not recognizing it.

I pull away the blankets on me and bring them back where they should be. I sense this room was regularly cleaned but smelled too much like dust to be used by anyone. And yet, there again was the lingering scent. The scent of the Wayne boys.

I then find my shoes separated to my feet on the floor and put them on. I readily walk to the door, knowing there would be at least four who would try to stop me and muster some answers out of my mouth.

I hastily leave the room and navigate out of the large estate. I feel heartbeats come near me. I pace down the seemingly endless winding halls. In my weak resolve, I halt a second to see a painting on the wall. I knew it well, I- _shut it!_ I huff and continue walking.

But by the stairs, I am met with a fierce face.

His expression is blank, but I feel the electricity course in his fingers at the sight of me. I smile genuinely, amazed still by the growing humanity he is counted in, “Damian. You grew half an inch since I saw you.”

The boy takes it the wrong way, “I am not short!” His face grows red at what he thinks was a teasing remark.

I shake my head at him, then easily walk by, and go down the stairs. Realizing his error, Damian follows after, “wait!”

Tim then appears, running from where I just came and down the stairs to me as well. Jason on the other hand, has his arms crossed on the foot of the stairs. I sigh softly at the look on his face, though I do not stop for him.

Once we are on the same ground, Jason tries to bar my way. I debate whether or not I should take him down or simply fly off, but I don’t want to reveal myself to them, not when I knew they were not your usual family.

When Dick, jumps and lands beside his brother, that’s when I knew I had no other choice but to face them.

I am made to sit on the edge of a long dining table. Opposite me, sitting as well at the head, was Dick, to his right sat Tim, and behind him stood Jason and Damian.

“This feels an awful lot like a more intense detention.”

“Funny you should say that,” Dick leans in, propping his elbows in front of him, “when you’re not even enrolled at Oxford.”

“Or Gotham U.,” Jason adds, arms still crossed and all.

“And how you know that is an invasion of mine and the school’s privacy,” I reply firmly.

“Why were you there last night?” Dick asks again.

Now I was being presented with two alternate options, well three actually, though the third one was not going to work. I chose it anyway, “It’s none of your business.”

Damian then throws an object onto the table, though it was too far for me to see, I knew exactly what it was, my fake passport. “We found this in your trench coat.”

I knit my brows, “how do you know it’s mine?”

Jason pulls back at my answer. Tim leans in and scowls, “who are you? Why were you there last night, and why do you know all four of us?”

“Are you purposefully reeling us in?” Damian blurts. I knit my brows at his sentiment and scoff, “I’m reeling _you_ in, when I’ve done so much to avoid you all?”

They clear their throats. Jason narrows his eyes, “why are you avoiding us then?”

“Because,” I slam my hand on the table, “I want nothing to do with you all!”

They are silenced by my words. I stand, pushing the chair back. I then turn and march off. But a different man is in my way now. I look up to the tall man’s face and recognize his features are on Damian’s. He must be his father, biologically. It makes sense now, they all _were_ Waynes.

I took in his expression and the rest of his face, realizing I knew it, “Bruce Wayne?”

Now the mansion made sense.

“My turn,” he said, stepping close to me, “what are you running from?”

I debate my chances with him, and decide that he was still not someone I could trust with such paramount information of my existence, even though I knew what I did of him, _and_ his sons. I place my hands on my hips, “your bothersome children, Mr. Wayne, and extendedly you, if you push to keep me from leaving.”

“You’re too suspicious to be let go,” he retorts are firmly as I spoke.

“You know, I could call the cops on you.”

“And tell them what? You were in an illegal establishment to secure fake papers?”

“No, that the Waynes are holding me against my will in their home. I’m sure the press would have a field day.”

“No one would believe you.”

“Perhaps. And what if I told them Gotham’s favorite child was also their dark knight, Mr. Wayne? Or should I say, Batman.”

He is still, but I sense the agitation of his kid. I roll my eyes, “Oh please, what other explanation is there to be had? Unless you were the operator of the business to begin with.” I smirk at him, “oh interesting. That would be a viral article.”

“That’s quite enough,” an English voice spoke, walking in with a tray of food, “I’ve cooked breakfast; therefore, the argument will be put on hold until after you all eat.” The balding man turns to Bruce Wayne, “Agreed?” He then turns to me.

I figure I wasn’t getting out of this anyway and nod, “agreed.”


	8. Photos

...so you just bring random photos of your ex with you?

* * *

* * *

Bruce chewed quite softly, which I found impressive, considering he was sat in the left seat diagonal to mine. That, and I could hear Tim's chewing from the other end of the dining room. I didn't particularly mind, since I've lived with people with far worse manners.

Still, I cleared my throat, "Tim, mind your loud chewing."

Damian turned to me and then snapped at his brother, "I told you you are vile."

Tim's cheeks started to tingle but he still threw a look at Damian.

"So madam," the English man who introduced himself as Alfred spoke, serving me some champagne, "what is your name? The boys can't seem to find out."

I look over to the man and I think of all the dangers this question could pose. I turn to my plate then to the flute of champagne to take it. Bruce however takes it from me, "you could be under age for all I know."

I turn to him and chuckle. I grab the flute from him an the allows it, "I'm flattered you think I could be eighteen."

"Well how old _are_ you?" Jason asks from across the table.

Alfred walks off from behind me and I take a sip on my champagne.

"Are you going to answer the questions?" Bruce mutters, his eyes narrowing at me.

"My name..." I start and then point to the passport that was still in front of the boys, "is just as it says in the passport. And, I would say I'm about 3524- no, three thousand, five hundred twenty-five."

"So 25," Dick notes, chewing on his food.

Damian begins to count in his head.

"And who might these be?" Alfred speak, placing three photos down beside me, making my heart drop. "Don't worry, I took great care of them," he says.

My heart quickens. "Where did you get this?"

"They were in a small breast pocket in your coat," Bruce says. I look at the pictures; they were remastered by the Serbian boys. The original photos were still with me.

"This is me, obviously," I point to a photo of me wearing a blue top, holding a blue purse, "this is my dog Dhahab," I move onto a photo with my golden retriever in a field of flowers. 

"And him?" Jason speaks, suddenly behind me, pointing an accusing finger to the man in a green kimono.

I smile fondly at the memory. I had bought a camera from London and it on my travels to Shimane, documenting everything that was still enough. Then this high-nosed boy spotted me and my gadget. He watched me from his family's estate that doubled as an inn house. His full name was Kobayashi Eiichi, he was a notorious vain. Upon seeing me taking photos of the flowers, he came over and asked what I was doing. After my explaination, he asked why I wasted my time taking photos of flowers when he was far prettier.

There was a long banter between us, but eventually, I took his photo. He then asked if I had a place to stay. It was fate that I didn't.

"He's my boyfriend," I spoke to Jason. His face fell and I chuckled.

Damian then ran over, "If he is then what's his name"

I raised a brow but answer anyway, "Eiichi."

"He's Japanese?"

I nod. I sigh, then stand, "is there any other things you have to ask? I'm running late for work."

"At the music shop?" Tim butt in and I smile, "that's the one."

Seeing as no one was going to stop me, I walk off. Except my wrist it taken. I turn and see Bruce looking down on me. "I'll call you."

I knit my brows at him and pull away, "why would you?"

But he doesn't reply. For a moment, I think he has more secrets than I have. I examine the room, the boys, and the men, then I shrug, "I don't have a phone." Then I walk away.


	9. Getting Closer

In hindsight, storming out with style may not have been so worth it, as my passport was still on the Wayne dining table. At the very least I still had the photos, though my trench coat was also left behind.

I huff at the thought, after all what is the value of clothing to me?

It's just a mechanism used to distinguish, or rather discriminate one being's class, stature, or grace against the rest. The joy it brings is literally superficial.

For an entire week I lived with raised hair on the back of my neck, feeling eyes watch my every move. Since I stopped faking I was sick, my job kept my mind off the Waynes as much as it could, though once and a while, their hiding spots where not as incognito as they thought it'd be from the view from my cash register.

I suspect they even went as far as hiring someone to buy a bunch of instruments and records with the real intention of spying on me. Although I think they of all people would know it would be futile.

After all, what was the point of suspecting me, when there was nothing to suspect?

Now as the minutes trickled slowly today, I weighed whether or not I should get my passport back, find a way to make a new one, or... simply fly off to an island in the Caribbean. And then it was quite instantaneous, the front door opening, the bell ringing, the whiff of air, the taste of genuine leather, and my body straightening at the approaching man.

His hair is combed back and his hands are in his pockets. He halts when he is directly in front of me.

"I have questions for you."

I offer a smile, "Would you like a harmonica like your son?"

"I think you know why I'm here."

"And why are you here, Mr. Wayne?" I sigh, counting his heartbeats. Bruce Wayne is calm, reeking of composure, patience, and persistence, much like a brick wall. I examine his nose, then his jaw, then the arch of his brow. How lucky of him to inherit all the good features of his ancestors. The scent of Obadiah Wayne is with him, not that I had any doubt he really was from this old rich family. Bruce would have to be his great-great grandson, if I'm not mistaken.

Don't get me wrong however, I only ever bought horses from the man, three times I remember. He at that point was only starting to accumulate the wealth that would become the Wayne Empire.

Bruce repeats himself, _"to ask you questions."_

I cross my arms, "It's inappropriate to make small talk to customers."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not then," he eases a hand on the surface between us and leans in, "I bought this shop, so that makes me your boss."

I give a falsely surprised face and nod, "Amazing." I lean forward, meeting his face as close as I could without touching his skin with mine. Part of me hoped he would flinch, but as his scent indicated, it only alarmed him how confident I was. "I quit then," I quip and pull away. I walk off, "send me my pay in cash. I know you know where I live." 

I circle around and look up at the towering figure, smiling, "I'm sure the old man is comfortable now anyway. What's the point of keeping me?"

Before I could move, he demands, "What's your play?"

Though I knew could just leave, the look on his face was pitiful to me, and so I sighed out a reply. "No play, only work. A girl's gotta get by."

What he said next perturbed me. Bruce recites the contents of my current identity, the one I paid good money to be kept under wraps, starting with my name, date of birth, age, place of birth, and the fact that I was- "home schooled until high school, and currently drifting from one job to the other." His voice is monotone, there is not hint of judgement, and yet his eyes were heavily scrutinising me. 

"What's your point?" I clench my jaw.

"How is it that you were in Oxford for a week but work at a music shop?"

"Savings. I'm sure you're familiar."

"And how exactly can someone with barely a high school diploma have enough savings to go here and back on a whim?"

 _"I inherited it,"_ I jab.

"You wasted your inheritance to see Dick?"

"I didn't-" I start then sigh. I raise my hand at him and motion, "surely you can tell from how hard it was to find my profile that I don't want to be involved in _any_ sort of loud business. If you think I'll rat you out, don't. There is no possible thing I could gain from doing so."

I walk away from him, but he catches my wrist. Bruce is strong; I can tell from of the tremendous strain he has from holding back in a mistaken fear to hurt me. "I think you'd understand if I don't believe someone who figured out something so detrimental so quickly wouldn't find someone who would kill to find out what you know."

Instead of breaking free from him, I step forward and raise a brow, "and how exactly do I get you to believe me?"

"Tomorrow night, 8pm. Frozen Rock. Be there."

"Fine. But I really am quitting," I give the final say and leave him where he was. I throw him a look as he watches me exit. I point a finger, "Again, I know you know where I live, but don't follow me."

The moment I come back to my crappy apartment, I look to the corner of my pocket and pick at the track he put on me. It's too small to have a camera, but I'm sure it was audio on it. I hope he likes the sound of water in a washing machine.


	10. And Here We Have Bruce Wayne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a disclaimer, none of these photos or gifs are mine in story (i highly doubt i'd put a pic of me suddenly lol), and sometimes i'll just put media for aesthetics so dont think about it too much m'kay

I discovered Frozen Rock is a quirky Japanese fusion restaurant with neon lights and a price rage leaning to the more expensive range. I admit I was pretty excited about this confrontation; beyond the fact that this would mean getting the Waynes off my skin, I could pretend this a date. I'm glad my white outfit was fitting, though even if it wasn't it would.

Though I was ten minutes early, Bruce was already there when I arrived, in a far off corner, so not to be bothered.

"You're early," he says, standing from the the booth. I wave him off, "you're earlier," then sit next to him.

"You dressed up," Bruce notes, unbuttoning his deep blue suit.

"And you didn't," I reply simply. I shrug, "can't I look good? This isn't a date."

I feel his eyes narrow, surely at how I shaped my sentences. And yet he disregards it, "I supposed you like Japanese food."

"Because I used to date a Japanese?"

He hums, "used to."

"Come on. You _must_ know that I am unattached to anyone in any way," I turn to the approaching teenage waiter, "but then again what _do_ you think you know?"

The boy is ecstatic, so much I am sure he doesn't realize I'm here. I tell Bruce to choose, which prompts him to ask the waiter what he should choose. By the time the boy was gone, muttering how cool it was to be serving Bruce Wayne, the said man beside me speaks, "I know this is vintage and expensive."

He hands me my trench coat. "And stolen," I add, getting it from him. I manage to notice his nearly microscopic device on my clothing. Truly, my coat deserves a good soak and wash, huh. And, need I mention, it wasn't a lie, I did steal it from the lover I had who made it for me.

Bruce is more stoic than usual, at least compared to what I've seen him be. Yet I could feel that I was breaking his patience, by just the most unfathomably minuscule bit.

I urge him with a nod, "well, doctor. What's the diagnosis?"

"You're running away from your brother--" he starts, making my stomach drop though I did not react outwardly. But that's about as accurate as he got. "-- who's head of a mafia you want out of. What you really want to do, is finish college, get a good job, find a place to stay, live a good life."

I asked him the only thing that mattered, "how'd you know I have a brother?"

"There isn't a mafia in Gotham ran by a woman."

I shrug, "that you know of." He remains silent and it makes me grin, "hey. I don't either."

I give him my silence so he could ask me any questions. But when he doesn't I cross my legs and turn to him, "Tell your sons I'm really not interested in them, okay. Be as cruel as you can for me."

I'm partially surprised when he makes a sound. It didn't sound like a chuckle, but with the dosage of endorphins in the air, I am sure he was definitely amused. At this point, it was established between us that we were believing Bruce's explanation to be true.

The food arrives. The fanboy asks for a photograph and I gladly take it for them.

When it's just us again, Bruce hands me chopsticks and states, "I still don't trust you."

I look at him and offer him some sushi with my sticks, "I don't think you trust anyone."

He looks to the food in front of his face and eats it whole. His actions make me chuckle. He reminds me suddenly of Helga, a friend of mine whose main enemy in life was food that's in a size too big to put in your mouth whole or else you'll look starved, but too small to eat pieces or else you'll look snobbish.

For the rest of the night, we do nothing but eat. It makes me realize I thought too naively that Bruce would leave me be after that. Still, I pretended to think otherwise. "You'll leave me alone now?"

Bruce clears his mouth before replying, "My kids won't let me, _even if I wanted to."_

"But you _don't."_

"Like I said, I still don't trust you."

Well, I expect no less from a brick wall. He'll lose interest anyway eventually. I relent with a sigh, "Fine. Keep tabs on me, but poke me with a six foot pole, okay?"

"I can't promise any of them can do that."

I shoot a glare, "Like I said, crush them with cruel rejection."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can- can i be reall witchu for a hot second... I have no idea where I am currently bringing this fic and I feel like we're taking a big zigzaging detour uhhhhh


	11. ABDDJTQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As in: alfred bruce damian dick jason tim quarrel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay yall, when I say reader is pretty. I mean you, you pretty reader. Stfu and accept my compliment GRRR

Bruce came back from the "dinner that can never be a date because I saw her first," as Damian put it. 

Truthfully, Bruce could understand the intrigue, this woman his sons were crazed over. He knows there is more to her than what he already knows, (though he doesn't know that what he knows is nothing). With how much depth and mystery this seemingly open woman was, it's hard not want to know more.

He's broken it down.

  * She's physically attractive. She held herself in a way that she knew it and yet it never came off as flashy.
  * She dressed well even though what she wore was fairly simple. _*noted the fact she apparently steals expensive clothing._
  * She smiles. She laughs. She scowls. She pouts. She shows her emotions... and yet somehow there is always so much more to it.
  * She fights back and is very vocal about what's on her mind. And yet again, there is the lingering notion that what comes out of her mouth is only half the story.
  * And possibly the key aspect to her was the fact she is incredibly fast and cunning. She lets on that she knows what's going on in the room while projecting that she arguabley knows more than she lets on.



In other words, she was an absolute enigma. It's like a Christmas gift to the boys who get off on solving mysteries.

Bruce says none of what he's broken down however, and goes in only to the details acquired in the dinner he's had.

"Okay so you were right about her running from her mafia leader brother and wanting a better life," Dick repeats, crossing his arms. "Which means she most definitely stole enough money to get to Oxford."

"Yeah, she was trying to get away, but you cramped her style and asked questions, forcing her back to Gotham," Jason grinds his teeth.

Dick ticks at the accusation, "yeah, you say that as if you would've liked to have never to met her, because if she didn't come back, she'd still be there with me."

"Remind me again why you're here in the first place, _Dick,"_ Jason erupts.

"To beat your sorry ass, Jason," he barks, ready to lunge at him. The real reason, mind you, was because it was the start of a semester break. Tim is the one that defuses the anger, "Shut the hell up you two. You ever think she may want us to snap each other's necks?"

Tim was the most sceptical of all, with regards to the girl.

"I just want to snap your necks," Damain notes, making Tim hiss at him. The youngest continues, "there is still one thing that isn't adding up." Damian turns to his father before adding, "how did she meet all four of us. The statistics of it being is chance is slim."

"Yet it isn't impossible," Alfred blurts in, bringing some snacks into the bat-cave. "Will the masters be here all night? I've yet to mop the floors."

Bruce places a hand on the side of his face, "I really think it's a coincidence."

Alfred takes that as a yes and leaves, deciding he's going to sleep.

Tim scoffs, "Really? It's much easier to believe it's a coincidence for you than the fact it's an elaborate scheme. We've handled worse, dad."

"The tracking device you put on her _is_ still under water," Damian offers, making Dick eye him harshly in annoyance, "you say that as if you wash your clothes effectively, as if you wash your clothes _period!"_

"Hey, Grayson, unlike you I'm not trapped in her spell!" Damian fumes.

Jason snorts, "yeah, like you _didn't_ freeze when you saw her for the first time again in weeks."

Damian wants to snap a neck.

Bruce slams his hands on the table where the woman they were squabbling about was sprawled on. He looks to his silenced children, "the reason why she knows who we are is purely because of your joint decision to bring her home with us."

"And you would've left her?!" Jason seethes.

"I said to take her to the damn ER Jason, but when I came back from surveying the rest of the building, Alfred had done her first aid."

"That!" Dick points his finger, "she had so much blood on her clothes, but she old had a cut to her side."

Tim shakes his head this time, "it was still a laseration, genius."

"I swear I saw her get impaled!"

"Yeah and I swore I saw the Joker there, but it was just some guy in a horrible mask," Damian adds.

Dick nods, "there's still something up with her."

"I thought you were on her side?" Damian squints.

Dick groans. Jason flicks Damian's head, which starts a whole other thing. But it was because Papa Wayne spoke up that no one started chopping off fingers or snapping necks, "I'm going to take her in."

Everyone freezes. The whole world stills. The cockroaches in the crooks the cave stop to gasp.

"Y-you don't mean to like adopt her right," Tim clarifies for his sanity.

Damian is mortified.

Dick grows angry at the prospect that even his dad was falling for her. He shudders

Jason slams his fists to Tim's arm, "she's a fucking adult how could he?!"

Bruce is exasperated, "you'll find out soon enough."

Damian seethes, "Don't dare just turn you back on us old man!"

"I do what I want, kid," he jabs and does exactly what his youngest doesn't want to do.


	12. Let's Begin

Friends, we have reached a pinnacle part of our tale. Tis the defining day my fate to the Wayne family and a blade to my neck would be sealed.

Hey, I'm just recollecting what the beginning of my story was. After all, my life was flashing before my eyes.

True enough, both Bruce & I are to be blamed, as he too much persisted and I eventually relented, drawn by the excitement that was to potentially come from an interestingly presented fellow. But as I said, he should have stayed on his side of the road.

Today, I was making my way back from the supermarket. I was wearing the old uniform I had at a place called ARCADIA, which was, yes, an arcade. That and a skirt and pumps, simply because I hadn't been able to wear something like this for a long time. That, and the fact to day was the day I'd catch that disgusting predator that groped and catcalled women in these parts.

I saw him from the end of the block. But at the same time I heard the a familiar heartbeat nearing me. I got a gust of Bruce Wayne, but ignored him and gripped my tote bag. By the time I passed the predator, I felt him close to my heels.

Simultaneously, I felt Bruce Wayne catch the predators hand that grossly tried to reach out to me, but I as well stuck my hand in my bag and threw the melon I bought throwing it to his skull. I made sure not to kill him. He should stay in prison for a long time. I sigh and turn to Bruce who jolted, though his grip was still firm on the man's arm, which he had twisted. I then pull out my phone and call the police, explaining I caught the crook that always got away from them.

I hung up, turning to Bruce who had let the concussed man sit on the ground, against a pole.

"Is this what you call a six foot pole?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes at me, "he was going to harass you."

I went to the poor melon on the floor, bruised for a good cause, and picked it up, flaunting it, "I had it all planned." 

"What if you missed?" he steps closer. I smile, "well, you were here."

_"And what if I wasn't?"_

"If you weren't and I missed, my heels would have stabbed his feet. But you were, anyway, no point of your hypothetical." I brush up my skirt and he watches as I do so. I then point a finger at him, "No matter what a woman wears, a man, nor a woman, should respect her!"

He pulls his head back, "Respect should be common sense, but even common sense is not common."

I run my hands through my hair, "You can live your life thinking the worst of people or the best. I've tried both; the latter is far more rewarding." I cross my arms and fix my tote bag on my shoulder, "Now, what do you want this time?"

He takes a moment and places his hands in his pockets, "there's something I need to talk over with you."

"Let me stop you right there. If it will tie me down further to you, the answer is N-O."

Upon stating this, I turn around and walk away. Bruce runs in front of me however and blocks my way. I try to avoid him, but he is annoyingly large. I growl at him, "Do you want me to bite you?"

"I want you to bite my proposal."

"I won't marry you, Mr. Wayne," I say, moving out of the side walk, sneaking behind a car and running back the way I came to run away from Bruce. It only lasts a few seconds, his confusion. The next thing I know he has his hands on my wrist, "let's talk at your apartment."

"No. I'm too hungry to talk to you," I grip my bag, "and I only have enough spaghetti for one person."

"Then let me help you."

I stare up at him and sigh. He is too tall for me to bring my face near enough to his. If I wanted, I had to tiptoe, but that would be pointless because I was already perpetually tiptoed in my pumps. "I don't need your help, Mr. Wayne."

I feel that I struck a chord in him upon saying that, but instead he smiles, "Alfred's taught me how to make a perfect spaghetti."

I roll my eyes, "you truly are a brick wall."

He thinks that what I said means yes, though he knows it meant go away.

"Not welcome to my crappy apartment, Mr. Wayne," I say, opening to the door for the two of us, beholding the greening grey walls and seemingly damp but dry, dark brown wooden floors. I remove my shoes and tell him to do the same. It was already filthy as it is, I don't need his designer soles to add to it.

"It's not that bad," he says after removing his black shoes, turning to the wall to the side, which enclosed the bathroom, then the living room in front of it, which was directly next to my bedroom, which was in front of my kitchen, which was next to the small table that was my dining room.

"I don't say it because it's small and shabby looking. It's because I'm pretty sure this used to be a drug den."

I begin to unpack and get my food ready. Bruce, no matter how much I shoved him away, he persisted, and so I allowed him to chop off some tomatoes while I drank some... bottled blood. I was supposed to add it to my spaghetti, but I feel like even if i said it was an old recipe, Bruce would be too alarmed. Worry not, it was sheep's blood. I made sure not to spill any of it in the corners of my lips.

I hated drinking blood, much more blood that's been bottled for a while. But it was the only way to replenish myself. My wound hadn't been healing properly because I have not fed on blood in a long time.

I drank water quickly after, feeling my stomach curdle at the taste. Eventually we finished cooking.

"Here," I hand a fork to Bruce once we sit down on my foldable chairs. He looks at me, "I'm not hungry."

"Yeah, well you should at least taste what you made," I say before eating a swirl of spaghetti. I taste the the freshness of the sauce, because we only used tomatoes for it and nothing from a pack. Still, my picky palette thought little of the pre-made spaghetti.

Bruce takes a bite and I feel his face pull back at the taste. I chuckle, "good?"

"Yes," he replies.

I pull back, "so what do you want to talk about?"

"This," he motions around, "you."

"Of course, me, but what about me?"

"I've decided on a compromise."

I raise a brow and laugh. I have an inkling feeling where this was going, but I decided to see what he would say, "go on."

He leans forward, "considering everything, what you know, and how easily you found out, I can't have you walking around so freely."

"So what, you're gonna throw me into a cell?"

"No. I want to recruit you."

I can't help but break into a laugh, "recruit me?"

"I can let you take one of the beds at the manor, and I'll let put you in any school you like."

I bubble into giggles. I prop my elbows on the table and prop my head on my hand, "and then you'll buy me an Hermes dress to go with my Bugatti?"

He raises a brow, "and then you work for me."

I laugh out heartily, "what kind of work, Mr. Wayne?"

"Dismantling your brother's mafia."

My lips pull into a pout, "Baby, you can't destroy _my_ brother's cult."

"That's where you come in."

I shake my head and pull back. I stand from my seat and step towards him, "who to you think that I am to help you?" I move closer and fix his tie, "And why do you think I'd agree?"

Bruce looks up at me, pulling his shoulders back, "I'm not giving you a choice."

I throw my head back in a laugh, "what? You'll kill me. You wouldn't be the first to try."

"No," he stands, to show me again that he was too tall for me to meet eye to eye. His lips raise slightly, "I'll just come back until you agree."

I tilt my head, "I'm very patient."

"As am I."

I purse my lips, "I don't think you know what true patience means, Bruce."

"Hmmm, I thought I was Mr. Wayne."

"I think I've established you are too childish for that title." I cross my arms, "I don't want to be a bat-lady."

"You don't need to be one."

I press a finger to his chest, "you don't get it." I button his coat jacket, "I don't want to be part of your world. I don't want to be exposed. I'm perfectly fine living in the shadows, in the darker shadows."

He takes my shoulders in his large hands, "you don't have to."

"I _want_ to. If you really want to help someone, help everyone in this apartment. They need it more than I do, and they _want_ it."

"I'll help them, but I have to help you too," Bruce baits. I scoff, "Ever the negotiator."

"Listen, if you point me in the right direction and help me take down your brother, then I'll deem you trust worthy and I'll let you live any life you want."

"You don't even know who my brother is."

He nods, "point me in the right direction."

"What if I told you you're dead wrong about me, that I'm not associated to any mafia in Gotham."

_"Point me in the right direction."_

I roll my eyes, "what are you, a broken compass?"

For a moment, we glare at each other. I stay as still as a statue, blinking slowly just to remind him otherwise. His scent is steady, his body is relaxed; he's psychologically telling me he isn't going to change his mind.

I sigh and think of the last time I let anyone in my life after hiding from my brother. And then I think of all that's happened in these past few days. I purse my lips, _“Il n’y a pas plus sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre”_

He raises a brow, "Is that a yes?"

I chuckle, "that's the longest yes I've heard."

 _"No one is as deaf as the one who does not want to listen,"_ he translates my French words. He continues, "that sound like a yes to me."

I smirk, "so I _am_ getting an Hermes dress."

"..."

"So you _are_ my sugar daddy?"

"W-what?"

I grin from ear to ear and pinch the man's cheeks that were already blossoming red, "adorable. When do we begin?"


	13. Breaking Eggs

Thus, I moved into the Wayne manor. I made sure that I came in when the family was on patrol, so no one would bother me.

It was quite an easy transition as I had not many material possessions. All it took was three suitcases, one for my valuable, and two for all the clothing I owned.

My room was the same one I had been in a few days prior. The room had newer sheets now. And the dust that had settled in some corners were relatively gone. I unpacked my clothes and put them in the closet. Then I opened my suitcase filled with things I could not part with through the years, the ones I always have to have with me.

I only looked to make sure everything was intact, but then I put the bag as it was inside the closet along with the rest of the things.

When I woke up the next day, there were four faces staring at me from the end of my bed.

"Well," I sat up, "this isn't creepy at all." I smiled.

"What are you doing here?" Tim jut out.

"You mean to tell me your father wanted _me_ to explain everything to you?"

"No," a voice from the distance called. Bruce came into view, "the idea was to wait until breakfast."

I narrow my eyes at him, "like last time?" I roll my eyes and got out of bed. There was a spike of hormones and anxiety in the room. I turned to the boys and figured it was because I only wearing a silver blue slip dress. I pursed my lips and got my mesh and pompom robe in a shade of grey and covered myself. "I'll go help with breakfast."

I walk off and then notice an annoying detail amongst all of them. I raise a brow, "next time, don't walk around with shoes on, especially not in my room." I travel then to the kitchen, barefoot.

The boys look to each other, and it simultaneously dawns on them that this was only going to be the start of what it feels like to live with a woman.

At least it was a woman they liked, even if it was annoyingly all in the same manner.

"Goodmorning, Alfred," I greet.

Alred looks to me as he puts a pancake on a stack, "Goodmorning, miss. You look well rested."

I nod, "how can I help?"

"Help?" he knits his brow, "oh, no, I shall be doing the work. You, my dear, just sit down."

"Nonsense," I say walking towards him, assessing what he was preparing. Seeing this, Alfred shakes his head, "miss, please allow me to work by myself."

I huff and sense the boys have finally come around. I turn to them and glare at their shoes, "do you all wear your shoes inside?" I then turn to Alfred and see that it was he too was wearing dress shoes. I narrow my eyes, "Right-" I raise a hand to Bruce, "give me your card."

The boys pull their heads back.

"I beg your pardon," Bruce says rather dryly, inching into anger.

I shrug, "well, I am your sugar baby now, and first thing's first, I need to buy you all some slippers so you don't bring your muck inside the place."

"S-sugar baby?" Jason raises a finger.

Damian knits his brows, "what's a sugar baby?"

Tim chokes on his saliva. Dick coughs, feeling his face burn like a million suns. Alfred turns his eyes from side to side and continues cooking.

"Come on," I snap my fingers, "do you want me to _steal_ a Rolex, when you can perfectly afford one?"

For a moment, the boys blow up with a plethora of questions. I smell a thick layer of annoyance and anxiety in the air, sourcing from the man who was in the middle of the mess. I decide then to get a warm pancake and eat it with my fingers. Alfred sees this and offers me a plate. I decline him and brush off my hands.

"Can I take his Benz to the mall?" I whisper to Alfred.

The butler makes a face, "he has the key, miss."

It takes a while, but finally, Bruce has explained the predicament and shut up his children. I then smile, "your card then?"

"You're not seriously his sugar baby right?" Dick questioned, clenching his jaw. Damian at this point had looked up on his phone a sugar baby was and clenched his fists tightly.

I roll my eyes, "It was a joke. I'm too old to be anyone's baby."

"Yes, but father is the perfect sugar daddy," Damian fumed making Tim shudder, "dude shut the heck up."

"Listen. If you won't even give me your card, I'll be less inclined to help you." I then walk off.

"Stop." Bruce says, "if you buy anything illegal-" he says pulling out his wallet. I grab it from him quickly and click my tongue, "how dare you think lowly of me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh again idk whats happening


	14. Suspicious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imma be real witchu, i'm finding it harder and harder to keep everythingG the way i want it to be
> 
> showing that reader is super badass and cool  
> BUT  
> that batfam is ALSO super badass and cool
> 
> so lyk h e l p

Obviously there was something I had taken account.

What would be the undying snooping in this household I would have to deal with. But of course, I couldn't simply let them figure me out, definitely not the _real_ me. Witch was why I set up a trap. In my closets were my suitcases, one which was filled with my actual belongings and two with files on all the gangs and mafia in Gotham. How did I get it you may ask? Easy, sneak into their dens and print their encrypted files.

:)

Alright, it helps that there was another power I possessed. Hallucination. During the war, which one beats me, I managed to get captured, and they drugged me so much when by the time I got away, I realized I caused some of the people I attacked to hallucinate. With enough _practice_... I even managed to will the hallucination.

Consider it a blessing disguised in a curse.

Back to my trap.

Damian was the first to break into my room. My closet was swimming in his scent. I suppose it was fitting, for he always was the one who acted the most suspicious out of all of them. He tried opening one of the suitcases with the bogeys in them. Unlucky for him, he tried to pick an old rusty lock I had which gnaws at metal and eventually breaks it. He didn't even have the decency to jiggle his metal pin out until the next night. Sloppy if you ask me. But I suppose the boy was trying to achieve something, since I bet sloppy was not in his vocabulary.

Surprisingly, the next scent that stuck to my closet was Bruce's. What was surprising was he stayed long enough and left a scent, because he didn't touch anything.

Then it was Tim that nearly opened the other bogey suitcase I had. He had impressive patience. The suitcase had a seven number code with two letters-- it was custom made of course. And surly any of the suitcases could have just been hacked open, but they would have gotten caught; they are far above that.

Now you may ask, what was I doing during all this sneaking that took place in a span of exactly a week. Blowing off money of course. I definitely didn't need it, but it was exhilarating, you know, spending money on a whim. I've missed doing it. It's far more exciting to be using someone else's money, especially when the man who makes it might give me some violently amusing reactions.

And now, since all I've been doing is staying out of the house to shop, then sleep and eat inside, Bruce is looking for his side of the bargain.

So of course I pushed down my Chopard shades and smiled at him from the inside of the Jaguar I bought just for the sake of pissing him off, "what do you want me to do, Brucie?"

"Get out of the car," he demanded rather rudely.

I pursed my lips and pushed my shades back up. I could smell the boys in the background, giving off mixed signals with their whispers and agitation levels. My Jimmy Choo clad feet clicked against the floors and yet I still looked up at Bruce from where I was heeled up. I narrowed my eyes at him, "your genetics are bothering me. What could you possibly be so tall for?"

He swallows bile in his mouth, "you said you'd buy a Bugatti."

"And I said I'd buy an Hermes dress, clearly I found Bvlgari suited me better," I pull the corner of my lips up, "your sons seem to think so."

The boys flocked tightly together tensed and it made me see a silly shade of pink around them. I chuckled softly and turned back to Bruce, "oh lighten up." I say and press my fuchsia lips on Bruce's cheek, making Damian nearly have a stroke. Bruce didn't take kindly to it and it only made it all the better. "That's definitely your color."

I walk past them, removing my glasses and strutting to my bedroom. Before taking a step from the garage to the inside however, I put on my slippers and hissed at them, "you better wear the slippers I bought you."

Fast forward to us in my room, with every foot clad in a bright fuzzy slipper. I find it so splendid that Dick unironically picked the baby pink slippers for himself. (I had bought a large variety of slippers for everyone).

"Now, I know you've all tried to open my suitcases."

There was silence.

"Come on, someone who was in the mafia should at least know that." I continue, "nonetheless, I will present you with one file."

"One file? You have _three_ suitcases." Jason scoffs.

"I only have one file on the Gotham's biggest mafia," and that was the truth. A thick file it was. I then stepped into my closet, mind you which was a walk in one, and closed the door behind me. "You all must learn to accept the privacy of others if I am to benefit from it."

Quickly then, I unlock one of the suitcases and pull out the file. After fixing everything up, I come out and had it to Bruce with two hands, "Congratulations."

"How do we know it's not fake?" Tim asks.

"How do you know a woman's breasts are fake?" I throw back, causing the boy to blush. I nod, "you just do."

And for a while, the bat family was satisfied.


	15. Dots Everywhere

Except for when they weren't satisfied... which came quite quickly I'm afraid.

It was Dick who caught me during the night. I pretended I couldn't hear his firm footsteps from behind me as I walked to get a cup of water, interrupting my sleep.

"What's your play?" he said, making goosebumps form on my skin. The level of accusation on his voice took me off guard. I had opened the refrigerator door when he said this, giving his face a very sinister but flattering Chiaroscuro effect.

"Just because my dad is being patient with you, doesn't mean he can't tell you're flashing an array of alarm sounds," he says, crossing his arms, inching towards me.

"Has anyone told you you resemble a Grecian statue, Richard?" I speak what was really going through my mind.

"Cut the crap," he hisses, making a slashing motion to his neck, "I know you're much more than a mafia boss's sister, or a gold digger."

I raise my brows, "does enjoying life's finer material things make me a gold digger?"

"Yeah, it kinda does," he snips.

"Alternatively, does it make you a model simply because you're good looking?"

I'm satisfied enough with the slightest tinge of red on his nose. He pushes me and manages to close the fridge door, shoving me on it as he did so. There was silence after the thump. He seethes and waits for a reply. I knit my brows at him, "would you like to know the truth?"

"I deserve it," he tuts, hands on my shoulders.

I raise a brow at that and brush him away. He allows his hands to drop. "But you can handle it?"

He rolls his eyes in the dark, "yes, Private Ryan."  


"Fine," I sigh, "I'm a three thousand year old vampire."

I can taste Dick's annoyance. He breathes in and sighs.

"Should I go on?"

"Are you going to keep boring me with your science fiction?" he looks down on me, both literally and figuratively. "Fine, I got answers out of you eventually."

  


"My goodness, Dick," I pull a pout, thinking of how many puddles he avoided in Oxford to keep up with me, "I thought you liked my ideas." I brush my fingers by his collar bone, "do you want me to excite you another way?"

His heartbeat goes rapid. Part of me wonders why he is so affected by me. But then another part wonders had I existed truly as a 24 year old in the time, would he still have his heart quicken at my actions.

It's instantaneous that he clears his throat and pulls away.

"He's not really my brother," I say, the sentence doubling on the truth it meant. Dick blinks at it, signifying it was not sufficient enough for him. I sigh, "My brother wants to kill me for rebelling from his utopia vision."

"That's why you've been living under the radar."

I nod.

"And why you're happily using dad's card."

"Mmmhmmm."

"But what if someone identifies you, huh? You've been walking around all over the place," he scolds almost.

I chuckle at his affection, "Do I look or act like the girl from weeks ago?"

He takes a moment to respond. My lips grow into a wider smile, "and besides. If my brother wants to find me, he'd look himself."

He hums, "that important huh?"

"No, more like... that vengeful."

Dick lets me go, thinking he's gotten enough from my tight lips. Bruce from the the hallway retreats as well.


	16. Creampuff Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GEORGE FLOYD AND COUNTLESS OTHER INNOCENT LIVES HAVE BEEN LOST TO THE EVIL BROUGHT BY HATRED.
> 
> DO NOT LET YOUR HEARTS BE OVERCOME WITH HATRED IN WHATEVER FORM, IN RACISM OR DISCRIMINATION OR VIOLENCE.
> 
> LOVE & COMPASSION IS THE CURE WE ALL NEED.
> 
> Love suffers long and is kind;  
> Love does not envy;  
> Love does not parade itself,  
> Love is not puffed up;  
> Love does not behave rudely,  
> Love does not seek its own,  
> Love is not provoked,  
> Love thinks no evil;  
> Love does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth;  
> Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  
> Love never fails. 
> 
> But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away.
> 
> 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kept pushing this chapter back  
> it was supposed to be 12 or smth

* * *

* * *

The day that came today was a special day. It was the one time of the month I would meet someone special to me-- _my son._ And by son, I mean my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson. The only descendant I have whom I show myself to. I had exactly twenty descendants alive. I've kept track of them and yet it was only David that I showed myself to. David, whose name means beloved, who was my beloved.

His line was the only one I've shown my true identity to. It was I who taught his father how to drive. Part of me regrets I had, because it was in a car crash David was orphaned. He was still in his mother's womb when it happened, and both his parents died. His grandparents had passed as well, and so I took him with me.

I pretended like I was going to go shopping today like all the other days, except it turns I was not going to get out smoothly as I wanted.

"Where are you going?" Bruce asks, fixing his tie as he blocks my entrance to my Porsche. "Buying a new car?" he speaks, exasperated.

"No, I'm going to a cafe," I smile halfheartedly, "I don't wear Elie Saab for just anyone."

He makes a guttural sound, "Forgive me if I don't believe you unless I see it for myself."

"You want to come as my plus one?" I swat his hands away from his neck and finish tying his tie for him. He looks down on me with a scrutinising glare, "the boys have classes today, and Dick is completing his thesis."

"And you own a multi-billion company, so obviously you have spare time." I rebut, going to the driver's seat and strapping in, "come on, Mr. Wayne." 

He reluctantly follows.

It takes us a short while to arrive to our destination.

"You pretending Gotham's a race track?" Bruce huffs before we get out of the car. I chuff, "Funny you say that to me, when you caused quite the ruckus with your bat wagon."

 _Wagon?_ Bruce wants to point out his car was infinitely more sophisticated than _this_ hunk of junk.

I flip my hair back as I entered the large bakery. The smell reminded me of my favourite one in Spain but the scenery reminded me of that in Soho. The man follows closely to me as I examined the large establishment. "Aren't you a little overdressed for a bake shop?"

I turn to Bruce who was beside me and shake my head, "The scenery is pretty enough, but I didn't dress up for the place."

I head for the counter and order cream puffs, a croissant and hot chocolate. I turn to Bruce and decide he looks like a chocolate cookie kind of guy, so I order one for him. Just then, I sense a familiar sound in the air. I place _my--Bruce's--_ card on the counter, then instruct Bruce to get the food and sit down. He watches as I head for the door.

I walk outside and turn to the street. I spot the familiar face and wave. The boy smiles back, waving a bouquet in the air and begins to run to me. Once we're close enough, he and I collide into a hug and I seal him tightly in my arms.

"Hi Mima."

Mima, what it would sound like to say mommy backwords; that's what he calls me.

"Hi, baby," I smile from ear to ear.

Once we pull away, I grab his cheeks and look him up and down, "You've been working out."

He pulls away and laughs, handing me the bouquet of flowers he had. He then pulls his sleeve and flexes, "yeah, boxing's been good to me, Mima."

"No doubt to impress a girl," I narrow my eyes, sniffing the pinkish petals, "what's her name?"

His cheeks begin to redden, "It's not serious yet!."

I roll my eyes, "yet you smell like her. I doubt it's not _not_ serious."

"Mima!" he wipes his face in mortification.

"I mean you smell woman's perfume underneath your deodorant, David." I note with a grin. "Anyway, I brought Bruce Wayne with me today."

It takes a moment for my words to register to him. David suddenly snaps and pulls his lips apart, "wha- you mean like... Mima, you're dating Bruce Wayne?"

"No. It's compl-" _"complicated,"_ he repeats in a teasing tone, "As per usual."

I sigh, "fine. He thinks I'm a mafia child who's hustling to go to college."

"Hmm... and now you're wasting his money on Elie Saab."

I chuckle, "It's not a waste if he said he'd take care of me, David."

It suddenly clicks in his mind. He gasps and covers his mouth dramatically, "oh my gosh, he's your sugar daddy."

I snort. David tuts, "see it wasn't that hard to explain, Mima." He turns to the windows, "we shouldn't keep him waiting too long."

We go to Bruce who was sitting patiently in a four-seating table and stands when we get close enough. He extends a hand, "Bruce Wayne."

"David La Quoix," he reciprocates, shaking Bruce's hand. Bruce examines him before pulling his hand away, "you look familiar."

"Uh... I'm in magazines sometimes."

"You're a model?"

David chuckles, "yeah."

"That might be it," he nods. I move to sit down and the two follow. I move the food on the table. I bring the cream puffs to David, the croissant for myself, and the cookie for Bruce. David pouts, "... I'm on a diet."

"Diets are for people who don't box." I say, "eat." I turn to Bruce, "you too."

I take my cup of hot chocolate and take a sip while eyeing the two men, urging him to do as I say. They eventually do, and so I offer a smile.

"How do you two know each other?" Bruce asks looking between David and I.

"She used to be my neighbor," David spoke, "then she moved but we kept in touch cause I kind of rely on her like my mom."

I chuckle at David's words, "that's because I _am_ your mom."

"Okay," he narrows his eyes playfully at me.

Bruce isn't buying into it and turns to me, it seems to deceptive, "Where did you live before?"

"Archer Avenue," I say, knowing it was fully possible for a mafia member to live in the upper-class neighbourhood of Gotham. Bruce tries again, "Which side?"

"East side," I don't miss a beat, "have you heard of The Locksmith complex?"

 _Of course he_ _has_. Bruce nods slowly. David goes as far as pointing between us and naming our rooms, "618," he points to himself then to me, "619."

"And you see each other regularly?"

"Each month," David says.

"Why?" Bruce sours.

"Well because I love David. He is special to me, and it's the least I could do for him, remind him there is someone out there that loves him dearly." I say. David snorts, "of course she sometimes she sends me letters like the old lady she is."

We begin to slip into small talk, and Bruce is quiet for the most of it, up until David asks him, "so, you seeing anyone Mr. Wayne?"

I give David a look but he keeps his cheeky expression. Bruce is unfazed, "No. And please call me Bruce."

"Cool, I can call Bruce Wayne by his first name," he chuckles. "Well, here's a word of advice." He points to me, "you'll never find a woman another like her in the world."

Bruce doesn't have time to narrow his eyes and protest because David soon receives a call. He then turns to me and I knowingly nod, "Okay, I guess this is where our meetup ends." I move to stand and kiss David's cheek. He waves at Bruce and takes the call, running off.

"He's in high demand," I note simply. Bruce ignores this however, "who is he really?"

"David? He's my only real family."

"There's something you're not telling me," he juts making me sigh, "honestly, I could tell you everything and you wouldn't believe me."

He then leans in and mutters, "then tell me everything."

I meet his proximity, smirking because finally I could see him face to face. I turn to his lips and release a breath. Quickly I peck on his own and stand, "That wasn't the deal, Mr. Wayne."

And there I hear his heart beat quicken though he's learned to mask his look of surprise. I chuckle and motion my head to the door, "Come on, I'll drive you to work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and in case you were wondering I unironically made David a person of color. I thought of this before any of these hate crimes happened. We all as humans are related, are family if you go back far enough and it is regardless of what your skin is.


	17. No Bueno

"So have you found the gangster yet?" I ask Bruce as I drive to Wayne Enterprises. Bruce gives a look, mostly because of how fast I was going. He grunts, "The file you gave me was more than enough. Their operations will be completely dismantled by the end of the month."

I take in his words for a moment, "... isn't that a little long... considering your track record, Batman?"

_"Considering_ its thorough-- no."

I chuckle, "nothing to build back from, huh? Mmm, so sad our time together will be cut short" Right after, my tires screech against the road as I expertly park in front of Wayne's building. I go on park and turn to him with a smile, "we're here, your highness."

Unbuckling his seat-belt, Bruce exits the car without a word. I watch as he circles around but squint when he goes to my door and opens it. "Let's go," he crouches down.

"I'm _not_ going with you," I make a face.

He straightens up, "the deal wasn't to let you go after your _brother's mafia burns down,_ it's until **I** trust you. And you just showed me you have contact to outside individuals."

I clench my jaw, "David is _not_ mafia."

"And I'm learning to take your word for it," Bruce says, extending his hand out to me. I growl and get the keys and purse, swatting his hand away from me as I walked out. I place my keys in my purse and raise my brows, "Don't you think I should be hanging out with college students instead of... you?"

He manages a chuckle, "you're not going to be a college student yet on my watch, dear."

_Dear? I must be rubbing off him._

  


We make our way inside. Immediately there is a crowd of people swarming Bruce, his secretary, assistant, chairmen, managers, you name it. I walk a good distance behind them, seeing as I practically didn't exist beside Bruce Wayne anyway. Except he turned over his shoulder and quickly turned to the woman, "Maria, take the day week off, she's here to fill in your spot."

My eyes widen at that. Suddenly, Bruce shoves some papers and a steaming cup my way, without even turn to me. At least the coffee smelled nice.

Annoyingly, that Carson Elliot is approaching the same elevator we were going onto. He reeks of the same impudence he did when he was thirty, except with a strong tinge of old age.

"Mr. Wayne," he says with a lethargic tone.

"Mr. Elliot." Bruce suddenly reeks of tension and annoyance and part of me is please he as well doesn't like this man. Although, the stench of his anxiety is urging me to soothe him. 

"I trust you've seen the plans I've sent you for the new expansion product."

Bruce sighs, "yes, sir, and _I've_ sent you an email on how I feel about it."

The man clears his throat and begins listing all the reasons why Bruce was to cut it short, stupid and narrow-minded for not agreeing to his proposition. The elevator ride is stuffy and quiet besides the blabbering mouth the old man had. I snort and sigh when we finally get out to the floor were were supposed to get out of.

  


"And that is wh---" Carson stops midway as we step out and walk off. _Good riddance._

Except he isn't gone and runs in front of Bruce, and thus me. He is already out of breath, poor thing. I listen to his poor vitals and scrunch my face. I'd lay off sugar and cholesterol if I were him. He turns to me and blurts, "Jordan-Blue?"

I feign no recognition and instead squint, turning the man near me and then to Bruce, back to Carson. I point to myself, "are you talking to me?"

"You-you're Jordan-Blue."

I pull a disturbed reaction and pull a tight expression, "Err, if that's supposed to be my name... sorry to say, but it's not."

Bruce's demeanour grows deeper. Carson starts to reek of agitation, anger, reminisce, "you look exactly like her, you _must_ be her." He walks forward and raises his hand, and aims it to my face, though suddenly it takes a detour down to my chest, "I never even got to see her--" Bruce snatches his hand as I step back and cover my rib cage with the files I had. He's lucky I don't want to burn him with the coffee I had.

They never seem to learn. Ugh.

Bruce makes a guttural sound and squeezes, making the man whine. I could tell he wanted to break a finger, but still, he releases him and steps forward, "do you always go around touching women without their consent?"

"You sonovabitch!" Carson growls, half-heartedly with this throbbing hand.

"Dawson, could you please see Mr. Elliot out of the building, _permanently."_ Bruce speaks, turning to me, knowingly saying I should keep close. Carson is escorted out by some men and he whines all the way.

  


  


By the time we step inside Bruce's office, it's just him and me.

"Are you okay?"

"I am, but I'm sure his hand is totally busted."

He heads to his desk and I follow, placing his files and coffee down. I examine the needlessly large room, although, I'd say it was fitting for him. Upon seeing the panelling in the ceiling, I could guess it wasn't large for no reason. Surely there were secret compartments there of some sort. I inhale deeply and exhale. Yup. Smells like lead and silver to me.

"Do you know him?"

I turn to Bruce and raise my brows, "the creepy old pervert? Well I know him well enough now, but no, I don't know him personally." Again, not a lie. He tried to court me when he was younger and I never bat a lash or gave him the time of day. 

I push my hair back, "and not to sound rude, but Jordan-Blue sounds like a stripper name." And well, because it was... was it my stripper name?... ... ... well, I have tried everything once, but never during an actual performance night, and it wasn't for money-- _it's a long story..._

  


"I'm sorry about him."

_"You_ did nothing wrong, Bruce."

He sighs, "at least now no one in this building, nor anyone who wants to associate themselves with me, will have to deal with him at all."

I make a face. Harsh. Well done.

  


"So do you expect me to just stand here?"

Bruce begins to type away on his computer, "you could sit down on a chair."

I roll my eyes, "yes, of course that's what I meant."

  


He doesn't make a move to reply to me. He just types away on his computer and focuses on it as if his soul is bound on it. And he's immaculate, a work of art, I say, though humans cannot be classified as such. There are few people who are made like him, who are truly just too captivating, so dazzling to the eyes, without trying.

A lot can be beautiful, a lot can _not try_ , but to be on his level is hard. I've only personally known six people who are truly like this, and he is the sixth.

I could compare him to Roshu, who shaved his hair and lived with not a single deformity on his beautiful brown skin. Everything about him was elegant, but it was his own, as Bruce has his.

"Some would say it's rude to stare."

"But I'm not staring, I'm assessing."

Finally, he turns to me, "and what have you assessed?"

"You are beautiful."

"... that doesn't work on me."

"Then perhaps I should kiss you again."

Bruce blinks then turns back to his screen.


	18. B is 4 Bruce & Boredom

The rest of the day was awfully boring. I literally acted liked Mr. Wayne's secretary, taking calls, filing his paperwork. Perhaps it was Bruce's way to test me, on what skills I exactly had. Sadly for him, I found amusement in asking him needless questions and annoying him by pretending I didn't know how filing and telephone calls work.

I would say it was impressive of him to be so patient, but knowing the lengths his sons could go, it's to be expected.

After hearing I'd have to do the same thing tomorrow--which was now today, I decided to skip the couture dress and wear sneakers and a onesie as a protest. Of course that was apart from the actual protests or childish whining I did in order not to be chained to Bruce's wrist. I am absolutely not dressing up for some snooty businessmen and I think it's time to 'act my age'. Bruce didn't care though and kept me close to him the entire day.

To be fair, there was no reason for me not to like hanging out with him. I didn't have plans anyway. Truly, it was just life-draining and I've been traumatised by the business experiences I've had when I was younger.

"Quit acting like that," Bruce quips as he ends a call with some guy named Keller. He walks from the floor to ceiling length window, by his desk to shove my feet off it.

"Like what?"

_"Like my sons."_

I raise a brow and cross my arms, "do you mean _bratty_ and _immature?"_

"I was going to say difficult, but that works."

I huff, "I hate the corporate scene." _Been there done that._ I'd rather work at a greasy fast food chain than be stuck working 8-5 shifts in a pencil skirt with men who are worse than animals. Bruce looks down on me, "Normally, I'd agree, but you seem like you have a chip on your shoulder."

I look at him and take in his investigative expression. I listen to his blood suspiciously flow up to his neck. I could tell him about the history of Las Vegas, how gamblers with mortifying ideals built that cursed city, how I personally could still smell the blood in its foundations, although, many cities have that. But I make up an answer, "When you've been in the mafia, it shows you the _goodiest, clean-cut_ men who wear suits are worst and most horrible out of them all."

Bruce straightens up, accepting my answer. He places his hands in his pockets, "Do you have names?"

I raise my face higher and purse my lips, _"Bruce Wayne."_

He barely chuckles, "noted."

Bruce then turns from his phone to me, "Are you hungry?"

I immediately stand, "Not really, but if it's a chance to get out of here, then I'll take it." I grab his arm and head off to the door. He lets himself get dragged away. By the time we reach the elevator he turns to me, "You shouldn't skip meals."

"Who said I was skipping meals?"

"You didn't eat breakfast as protest," he says.

I shake my head, "Don't worry about me, I'll just suck your blood if I have to."

The elevator dings and we go down.

Bruce takes me to a high-end restaurant in an alleyway _I_ didn't even know existed, which was impressive-- so impressive that I had to tell him. He responded to it by shrugging and saying _"I'm Batman, I should know every alleyway,"_ which was totally arrogant and an oversimplification of how extraordinary it is.

I insisted we sit by the window although there wasn't much to see outside. We order some fried chicken, fish fillet and some side dishes, which looked amazing.

"How am I looking?" I ask after I chew on my food.

Bruce turns to me and assesses my face, "you don't have anything on your face."

"Good to know, but I meant with the trust thing."

He calculates his response, which is more than enough for me to know he didn't trust me at all. I hum to myself. He speaks up, "I'd give it a month, at least."

"That's like an eternity," I mumble dramatically.

"I thought you said you were patient."

"Yes, but I'd rather not live with you for a whole month, Bruce."

He straightens up upon hearing this, "Care to elaborate your distaste?"

I feel my ears twitch upon the sound of a screeching motorcycle from outside. I make a look and turn to the window, seeing there were no motorcycles at all. Someone must've gotten in an accident. I inhale, taking in Bruce's scent and sigh, "I'd rather not have your kids fall madly in love with me."

Again, he takes a moment to reply. He turns to his food, "At the rate we're going, they might end up hating you."

I tilt my head to the side, "because I'm hanging out with their uncool father?"

Bruce doesn't reply. Instead, he pulls out a phone from his suit pocket, "here." He hands it to me and waits. I look at it and I shake my head, "if that's supposed to be mine, I reject."

He hums, " If you're afraid of being tracked, you shouldn't worry about it because I added a chip that-"

"No. I don't fear machines. I just don't want you to have the option of calling me." I say, uninterested. I focus back my attention on my plate. I can hear his annoyance in the air. I shrug, "also, I simply don't see the appeal in phones."

"You say that with your million dollar car."

I narrow my eyes at him and find his scrutinising look. "In what world does a phone equal a car?"

Bruce finally grunts, "I swear, you've been hanging with my sons too much."

"Believe me, neither my snark nor wit come from those kids."


	19. Ghost-Ghast-Fiend-Ghoul

Again, the rest of the day is boring. When I find that I once more have to join him to his tedious job, I decide to admit defeat and bring along a sketchpad with me, wholeheartedly refusing to any secretarial work for Bruce whatsoever. He lets me get away with it for the most part, apart from the times he really needs help with his work, which I gladly help him with since I'm not completely heartless.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I tell Bruce, who gives no reply. I leave my pencil and pad on my chair and head off.

On my way out, I smell leather and juvenile delinquency. After my bathroom break, I find that Jason was standing outside with a motorcycle helmet on his head. He had his arms crossed as he spoke, "guess who?"

I blink at him and walk on by. He catches my arm though and flicks the glass shield up, "It's Jason."

I sigh and smile, "Gee. I wouldn't have _ever_ guessed."

He takes in my sarcasm and scoffs, "psssh, you totally didn't think it was me."

"Mmm, right, cause your helmet masks the sound of your voice _and_ your stench."

Jason lets my arm go, "I don't even smell bad! I took a shower and wore cologne."

"Exactly. There is such a thing as too much _fragrance."_ I say with air quotes. The guy sniggers and makes a face, "I come all this way to bust you out, but you attack me."

"You act as if I don't attack you."

"Touche," he says, taking my hand. "I _am_ busting you out though." He closes his pace shield then pulls me away to the elevator. I take in the serotonin under his skin. It smells like lemon grass and it makes me smile. Just our luck, the elevator was only about to close. When we catch it. Nothing weird. Just a girl and a guy wearing a motorcycle helmet in an elevator. The other two with us don't seem to care, or notice for that matter.

I turn to Jason, "you know I could leave on my own. Bruce is keeping me here to test if I would create trouble."

Jason turns to me and raises his upper lip, "Don't call him Bruce. Also, he's taming you through manipulation. Say it with me, MA-NI-PU-LA-TION."

"Are you telling me that's how he tamed you?"

"No!" he quips.

I shake my head, "Where are you even taking me?"

"Somewhere fun, much unlike this place. I figured you needed it, and since he's had you all for himself lately, I should at least have a turn, right?"

We get to the front of the building and Jason leads me to his motorcycle. I raise a finger, "please tell me that thing isn't fueled up with nitro-gas _whatever-you-call-it."_

Jason gets on his ride, "Don't worry. I don't agree with beefing up your motorcycle." He grabs an extra helmet and hands it over to me, "Also, I'm a good driver."

I hear no hint of lie in his cocky remark. I take it from him and wear it. I then hop up behind him. "Don't be shooting me off the curb, Jason. I'd rather not die this way." _not again._

And I know what you're thinking. I'm a hypocrite for driving fast but chastising the thought of zipping through the streets in a bike. Well, I'd say it has something to be in control, or perhaps I don't prefer two-wheeled vehicles. I'll gladly accept the title of hypocrite however, for my defence is weak. 

But I would agree Jason is a decent driver. We got to our destination quite briefly.

Taking my hand, Jason leads me into this rustic bar. It's quite small, but it's not suffocating in the smell of alcohol. He takes me to a table and sits me down. I pull out my phone and text Bruce where I am, mentioning I half-heartedly attempted to make Jason change his mind, but was too lazy to put my foot down.

"You have a cell?" Jason says, coming back with a bucket of beer. He sits down and takes the device from me, "and you ratted me out?"

I shrug, "I don't want to lose daddy's trust."

Jason pales while I chuckle, "what, you said not to call him Bruce."

"I take it back. I take it all the way back to hell," he exclaims, getting a bottle of beer, opening it, and taking a swig. I watch him as his veins loosen and his body heats. His lashes flutter and he slams the bottle down. He moves to open another bottle, but I cut him off, "I don't drink."

He raises a brow and I offer a soft smile, "I can't hold alcohol well."

"Well," he laughs, "isn't that all the more reason to get shitfaced?"

"Sure, but I don't particularly want to bite you if you provoke me."

Jason's stomach frenzies, "Now I'm intrigued." He leans in, "I wouldn't mind a few bites."

"Trust me," I cross my arms, "you would." I push my hair back and assess the room, looking at the architecture and interior design. "And if you wanted a kiss, you could just try ask-..." My words are cut off by the sight of a man from across a few tables. He was wearing dark clothing and tanned skin. His brows where thick and arched and his lips where pursed in unamusement. I straightened up and took a good look at him, wondering why his face was so distant yet unfamiliar.

Jason knits his brows, "what is it."

I snap to Jason and part my lips, knowing exactly what would throw him off, "just thinking about your daddy."

He shudders, "OH _p l e a s e_ don't ever call him that. Anything BUT that, dear goodness."

As Jason expresses his disgust, I rack my brain thinking who, where, and when I saw that man's face. I think deeply and decide to take another look at him. When I avert my eyes, the man is looking back at me. His pupils are intensely staring back. Three seconds later, I turn back to Jason, whispering, "Ra's Al-Ghul"

Jason stops his bickering and knits his brows at me, "did you say something."

From across the room, I hear a mutter and a heart beat quicken. Undoubtedly, he vaguely recognized me too. What where the chances of me seeing him in this place like this? I take Jason's hand and stand, "I want to go home now."

He looks at me in concern, "What? Is _someone_ here?" He clearly meant someone from the mafia that I knew. Jason takes one look over his shoulder, and quickly his demeanour changes. It is then he grips my hand and turns to me. I clench my jaw as he pulls me out. Jason smells sour and bitter and it's completely unsavory.

The moment we're outside, he pulls me close and whispers, "how do you know Al-Ghul?"

I hear the said man coming for us and so I hasten our travel to Jason's motorcycle. Once I hear the door open, I grab Jason's helmet and put it on his face. By then time I'm about to put my helmet on, a voice calls to me, "Excuse me, miss."

I turn knowingly turn to Ra's and feign innocence, "uh, can I help you?"

He narrows his eyes at me. I hear Jason tighten his grip and his adrenaline spike. Ra's looks down on me and places his hands behind his back. He takes a moment before finally saying, "sorry, I believe was mistaken."

I shrug and put my helmet on. I wrap my arms around Jason, "let's go, dear."

Jason decides to pull over after reaching a few miles. He moves to get off and I let him. He removes his helmet, "how do you know him?" He growls and points at me, "And I want to truth! So don't tell me anything about this mafia crap because we both know that he doesn't associate with just anyone."

I inhale deeply and think of my options.

Just as I'm about to tell him the truth, he receives a call. It's from Bruce, or should I say, Batman.


	20. Oh How I Despise Blood For Blood

Jason is currently in an urgent and important phone call. Of course I can hear what they're saying, even though the boy thought to whisper.

"Jason, I need you to come to the casino called Vant-8 by the highway in Quarterly." Bruce says from the other end.

"I'm _attached_ right now," he mutters under his breath.

"Yeah, and you're grounded for taking her out with you."

"WHAT! I-"

"There is _no_ time to argue about this. Just take her with you and I'll have someone else take her home from the casino."

Jason growls and hangs up the phone. He then comes up to sit back where we was. I ask for show, "what's happening?"

"Shut up, our conversation isn't over yet. The tone he uses is rude and it physically makes me react in anger and frustration. My face is darkened but by the time we arrive to the casino, I've already calmed down. He takes me by the wrist and drags me inside.

I am well aware I don't have to take shit from him, but still I let him grip me as harshly as he wants, knowing he was not actually hurting me, or intending to.

He is tense in the shoulder and I can practically hear his mind racing with many thoughts, mostly because of our encounter with Al-Ghul. Jason brings me to some slot machines and releases me. "Stay here until someone comes for you."

I knit my brow at his statement, knowing what he meant, but still looking for the clarification, "even if I don't know them."

"No!" Jason bursts and points his finger at me, "It's only us-- my brothers, dad, Alfred, or me. _Getit?"_

I nod slowly and sigh, "you know instead of being pointlessly angry, you could tell me what's going on."

"What's going on is someone's here and _you're_ unnecessary baggage."

I clench my jaw and moan, "you say that as if it wasn't your choice to take me out of your dad's office."

Jason wants to growl back, but a crowd of screaming people make him change his mind. He huffs then growls, "stay here til someone comes," then proceeds to run off to wherever he is much needed.

I take in the premise, seeing most of the people are in a state of confusion. I smell no blood in the air, which was good, but there were sudden spikes of agitation though.

For the most part, there isn't much of a ruckus in the place, which meant either Batman and the kids contained the happening amazingly well, or the security here is phenomenally horrible. I direct my attention to the lighting and decor of the place, adamant to ignore the people here swimming in vices.

"Hello there," a deep voice speaks. A man with a large build and bad breath smiles at me. I make a face and move away from him.

"Now hold on," he grabs my arm, "I'm talking to ya."

I offer a smile and pull my arm away from him, "And I'm not interested."

With his lack of hair and cliche bad goon fashion sense, he laughs as if it'd intimidate me, "I love a challenge."

"I suggest you learn some decency before I force some on you."

He barks out in laughter at this point, "Cute! What are you going to do, glare at me to death?"

I step forward and poke his shoulder with enough force for him to take a few steps back. Surely, with how big he is, his ego is even bigger, so his anger lights up when I bruise for him. Goodness forsake him if a woman of my stature pushes him, right?

He grinds his teeth, "you're way in over your head, missy. You're lucky you look bangable."

I literally shiver in disgust. My face contorts and I begin to wonder how many women this predator has done this to. I think of ripping his spine out, by my conscience is clouded by the scent of Dick seething in anger as he goes over to me. It was a bad move to step away and allow Dick to defend me I realize, because this low life took it as an opportunity to stab my side with a pick just above my right hip.

The pain is seething through every nerve of my body. My eyes water and my hands begin to lightly tremor.

Just then, Dick shoves the man away from me, and he goes flying back. Part of me expected him to be wearing his tacky superhero outfit, but I'm relieved it's just _him_ here to get me now.

The bald moron tries to fight back, however it only takes two expertly executed blows for him to get knocked out.

Dick then whips to me just as I pull the embedded metal in my side out. He looks on in mortification and I cover my gushing side while catching my breath.

"Dick I-"

He presses his hand to my side and masks the worry in his eyes with reassurement. He begins to lead me off, taking my arm around his, although I would rather not stain his clothes with my bloody hand, even though we was wearing a leather jacket. "Don't worry about me," I whimper, "get that man thrown in jail."

"There's another time for that," he urges in an attempt to get me moving faster.

"No, Dick, listen to-"

"You're going to bleed out!" he shouts.

We reach the side of the large room and I catch sight of a men's bathroom. I listen in and find it's empty. Thank goodness. When we come close enough, I use my remaining strength to bring Dick in there with me. But then he refutes, I have no choice but to shove him in after opening the door. I make sure to use my elbows to do so, not to leave any blood.

Dick is past concerned when he looks at me. He is mortified.

I begin to cry at the sight of him... and what I'm about to do.

His scent begins to smell like sunshine and coffee. Dick smells like a cocktail of goodness, and my slowly heart began to race in excitement.

"I'll make this enjoyable," I whisper, licking my lips as Dick thinks of what to do. His expression drops more than it already was. In a blink of an eye, I kiss him and have him pinned against the wall. "I'm sorry I didn't drink enough sheep's blood."


	21. The Actual Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> typos. sorry

I have Dick’s head in my bloody hands and his lips were against mine. He was passive, I don’t think he wanted to shove me off, in fear I’d get hurt even worse than I already am. It’s heart crushingly sweet. I quickly bite on his lower lip, which makes him whine. My saliva has hormones that will make him feel drowsy or euphoric.

I pull away, feeling my primal predatory instincts begin to kick in. I push it away when I hear Dick’s heartbeat grow slow like I intended. Instantly, the toxins in my venom seethe into his lip wound. It makes his eyes dilate and his lids flutter, “wha-what di-…”

“Shhhh ,” I call, bringing my lips to his jaw then to his neck. I rip at his collar and take in his scent, “I won’t hurt you.”

A hand remains on Dick’s cheek and another is gripping his shoulder. I push him down to better suit my height. He moans and mumbles something incoherent. My cool lips come against his hot skin and I feel the goosebumps raise around him. For a moment, I kiss, suck, and lightly graze his flesh. I dart out my tongue and my mind spirals into a frenzy. My teeth are urging me to dig in.

Instantly, my canines sink in and blood gushes out. Dick makes a sound of light protest and his arms wrap around me tightly. He begins to whimper and wriggle against me.

My hands push him into place while his cling on me for dear life. The sensation on my part was absolutely blissful. My nose is in a joy ride of sweet aromas. Had I not the prehistoric restrain in my nerves, I probably would’ve drained him in a minute.

Once I regain levelheadedness, I relent my sucking and lick his bite mark until it’s virtually smooth again. I turn my gaze back to Dick’s face. He looks like he’s asleep though I knew he was simply faint. He was, after all, still gripping on me. I carry him up to the sink and sit him down. I lick my lips, take in my reflection and the mess around me and sigh. My shirt was never worth keeping anyway.

Quickly, I remove my bloody shirt, wash it and wipe myself, as well as Dick until there was the faintest smell and appearance of blood on him. I then work at the still damp blood that dripped or spread in the surroundings and made sure it was clean as possible. After, I wash my shirt until there was barely a hint of blood in it and rip it to shreds. I discard it then in different rubbish cans in the bathroom. Of course, it helped I was impeccably fast.

I then take Dick’s jacket and put it on, just in time. A man was heading for the door. I take Dick from the sink and sling his arm around me. I head for the door and open in.

The man is baffled by the sigh of me, but I pay his no mind and pretend to while about how drunk the man around was. _“Oh Ronaldo! You should’ve stayed home, like mom said,”_ I say as I make my way out of the room.

The time moved like clockwork, except it felt longer for me, for all I did was watch Dick inhale and exhale until he regained consciousness. Creepy I know, but I had to make sure I wasn't going to either die or me, or turn into a subspecies of vampire. You see, if you are bitten, chances are, you turn into a rabid, blood sucking creature, not nearly as refined as the beast that we are, which says a lot about them.

The moment he stirred awake, I sat on my bed from where I had stood, watching him patiently. Correct, we were in my room. Why I chose to keep him here was a matter of preference.

I wiped his forehead and listened in on his beating heart, "Good evening, Dick."

His eyes fluttered open and his lips released a soft groan. I let him take things at his pace. There was no getting out of this, unless I will his memories away, but there is always side effects to doing so. The last time I erased someone's memories, they developed a serious neurological disorder. I'd rather not take my chances with Dick's delicate brain.

He sits up and turns to me, placing his head in his hands. "Wha-Where are we?"

"My room."

He turns to me and blinks, "what-" His words falter as a realization dawns on him. After all, he was still wearing the clothes he was in the casino, and I didn't bother to change. Wearing his leather jacket was for the sake of congruence and the effect of suspense.

"How did we get here?" he says, jaw clenching, "Where is everyone?"

"Well, I took the key in your pocket and smelled for your car in the premise. It didn't help that it was across the block, but what can I expect from a man like you? Then I drove us home. Everyone else is still on duty. I'm glad Alfred mostly keeps to himself unless called for, because I didn't want to explain how you blacked out to him."

"You! You were bleeding! I saw him stab you with a pick! And I saw you get impaled in the nightclub once before!" Dick demands with his blood pressure and voice rising.

I raise my hands, "I know. You saw correctly."

"Then why are yo-" he starts, but stops when I zip his jacket down and reveal my wound-less belly. Calm down, I was still wearing a bra. It was a nice bra at that. I remove the jacket and give it to him, "you want to know how my wound disappeared?"

At this point, Dick's heart beat is pounding in his chest. He is beyond terrified over trying to rationalize what had happened. "You're a smart man," I begin as I slowly shift and crawl towards him. "I think you know what I'm about to say."

Dick tenses and I feel his fight or flight instincts kick in. He looks just about ready to tackle me down, and I'd let him. "I'm going to show you your right shoulder, Dick," I explain. It's not surprising that he then pulls on his shirt and finds the bite mark an cuts on his skin. His expression falls and his anxiety builds. He does a great job to keep it under wraps. He jolts away from me and stands, ready to attack.

I wait for him to do something, and he waits for me as well. As we stare at each other, he eventually relaxes slightly.

"I told you, in the kitchen before that I'm a 3000 year old vampire. I just drank your blood because I haven't fed properly in months because of our little predicament here," I motion around me. "And if you think you should just kill me, then you're sane for thinking so, but it's useless. Worse people have tried, I've tried. I just end up killing someone else in the process."

"Then why didn't you kill me?" Dick growled.

I shake my head, "I didn't have to. I got enough blood to heal. That's it. I'm sorry by the way. I hate unwilling victims. If it makes you feel any better, your blood is exquisite. All your running around in Gotham really helps to keep your blood good. I'd pay trillions for _taste_ of your blood."

Dick begins to blush. I then decide to change my attire. In a second, I'm gone and back to where I was, only this time in pyjamas.

Dick is about to ask, but he can't. So I explain with a head nod, "I'm really fast." I then bring myself to levitate, and fly over to him. Dick eyes grow wide. His jaw drops and his feet fumble back. I land on my feet and smile, "and fly," shrugging, I add, "amongst other things."

Dick is too astounded for my taste. I thought he'd take this lightly.

"You act as if the Metropolis Superman doesn't exist."

"Yeah, 'cause Superman definitely also sucks out the blood of unwilling victims," Dick says with grit making me chuckle. I counter, "Yeah, and it's not because you're afraid you may have acted like you liked it when I bit you."

In this case, Dick is mortified. I break into a laugh, "don't worry. It was on me. I made you like it, in a sense. It was either that or excruciating pain, Richard."

Dick begins to debate in the dark. I tilt my head to him, "Let me heal you wound, it must be uncomfortable in many ways."

He tenses upon hearing my words, "how are you going to do it?"

I purse my lips, "well, kiss it. My saliva has healing properties. It's disgusting I know."

"You're fundamentally going to spit on my wound?"

I chuckle and agree, "yes, unless you want to do something much more complicated with my blood." I then shrug, "or unless you want to make out with me."

Dick begins to radiate mixed signals. I chuckle and decide for him, "I think for the sake of your sanity, I'll just kiss your bite goodbye." I then peel the shoulder portion of his shirt and give him a look. He looks away and his hands clench. I chuckle at him then spit on his shoulder.

He shudders and turns to his side, "Dude!"

He however is silenced when he sees no more traces of my canines that buried in his skin. I then grab his cheek and plant a quick kiss on his lips. He is too shocked to do anything and by the time I pull away and sit on my bed, I change the subject, "what happens now?"

Dick is still. I clarify, "you know the truth about me, nothing is holding you back from telling your father."

He thinks, "you said you never lied to us, but you made us believe you were in the mafia."

"You believed that all on your own. I only ever verified that I have a brother out to get me."

He knits his brows, "wait, so, are you telling me you have a lunatic _vampire_ brother that wants to kill you?"

I sigh and smile, "Finally, you are saying truly correct statements."

Dick wipes his face, "what did you do?" 

"I turned my back from him, mingled with humanity, had children, left traces. He hated that."

"Hold on, _you have kids?"_

I smile, "I did. But that was a long time ago. I recently met up with the only descendant I have that I keep in touch with. Bruce met him."

"Bruce met him?! And what!?" 

"And nothing. He thought he was a friend."

"Didn't he think you looked alike?" Dick made an incredulous face. I shook my head and chuckled, "David is practically unrelated to me now. He's my tenth generation son."

"Wait, wait, wait, now I have even more questions."

The rest of the time we had together was then filled with relaying information. At a certain point in my story telling, Dick's physiology indicated he grew too intrigued to rat me out. And as he laughed at my stories, he began to genuinely trust me.

It was nice occurrence, to be able talk about my past with someone new, even though it clearly signified I now had to leave this place as soon as possible.


	22. Maxed Out

"Where did you come from?" Jason squinted at Dick as he made his way to the dining area. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jason trails after his brother, "I mean I was looking for you all night, you weren't in your room."

"He slept with me," I say as I walk past them.

Dick looks forward as Jason's eyes widen. Unimpressed with the agitation, I look over my shoulder, "next to me, Jason. I nearly died and he listened to me rant all about it."

There is a bickering behind me but I mute it out. When I get into the dining room, Bruce is there wearing a robe. He looks up to me and repeats, "you nearly died?"

I shake my head, "Don't worry your pretty head, it happens all the time. And anyway, Dick got to me before anything serious happened."

I feel Dick come up behind me and give me a look. I raise my brows at him, "what, it's true. You saved me."

"Yeah. You owe me waffles," Dick notes, with a pouty face. He sits to the chair next to the one I sat on, which was adjacent to Bruce's.

I chuckle and roll my eyes, "For you, honey, the world." I turn to Bruce on my right, "please fix your card. It maxed out."

Bruce's expression shifts, "Maxed out?"

"Hey, it wasn't me that said that," I say, shaking my head. Damian suddenly buts in as he walks towards his own seat, "how do you max out a black card?"

"That's what I said! I think the saleswoman was just angry and wanted me to get into trouble," I say with shrug. "I didn't even buy that many things."

"You literally bought a Tesla," Jason snips as he sits in the chair next to Damian who was sat in front of me. Jason held a scrutinising look. I shrugged at him, "yeah, one Tesla. I don't know why you're so snippy about it when you don't even pay for anything."

"HEY I PAID FOR THE DRINKS YESTERDAY!"

"Yeah, cause _you_ drank them. Also, that's Bruce's money." I state.

Tim comes in with Alfred who was wheeling in breakfast and blurts, "wait, you went out for drinks with her yesterday?"

"THEY LITERALLY SLEPT TOGETHER!" Jason blurts, standing from his seat. Damian who was drinking, chokes on the water.

"Next to each other!" Dick barks, throwing a fork at Jason, which he easily dodges. The fork hits a vase and Alfred immediately calls Dick out for his actions. Dick sinks in his seat. Alfred eyes him as he gives him his plate of breakfast.

"Believe me, Jason, I would not fraternize with any you, need I catch your stupidity."

Bruce lets out a sigh, "enough. Can't we just have a normal meal?"

"What do you think?" I turn to Bruce as I take a bite of my food.


	23. A New Foe Has Entered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all imma do something and if you don't like it then ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

Let it be known I spent five whole days in the mansion with Jason as a 'grounded' sentence. And so I did nothing but play dress up. Alfred was dear enough to even play photographer as I posed around the mansion with the elaborate dresses and clothing I had.

Jason was less fun to be around, as all he did was ask me about Al-Ghul and try to spar with me. Of course in his head, he thought I would break within the five days we were grounded, except I was having too much fun in my clothing that he was the one that broke, especially when I offered to do his makeup.

Deep down, I think he wanted me to do his make-up, but would rather not deal with the teasing of his brothers in the process. But alas, I am not sure because he constantly bares a vexed atmosphere around him.

"Woah, what's today's theme?"

I turn over my shoulder to Tim who was walking into the kitchen as I made some waffles with the waffle maker I bought online. I turn to my purple clothing and shrug, "Chic-Glamour?"

Tim chuckles, "I see you fixed your black card-- er dad's card."

I raise a finger and wave it around, "Bruce checked, there's nothing wrong with his card, that cashier was a liar, as I suspected."

"So the first thing you do is by a waffle maker?"

I smile, "an industrial level waffle maker with a life long warranty. It was even 15% off!"

"Master Tim, her waffles are quite scrumptious, and the fact she's even impressed me is saying something," Alfred chimes in with a plate of waffles and my homemade cream cheese. I do also enjoy it with chocolate shavings, the way Alfred was eating it.

Tim makes a look as I finish cooking the last of my waffles. I turn to him and wave a hand, "go and call Dick. I made this for him, so he should at least try it."

Tim grabs a waffle and stuffs it in his face, deciding not to move and instead text his said brother to come over. Alfred wants to speak but gets cut off.

Jason who was following the smell in the air, whistles when he see's me. "I see you still haven't finished with your fashion show."

I chuckle, "glad to know you're finished interrogating me."

"Nah," he gets a waffle and dips it into some cream, "I'm not. We still have to talk about _you-know-who_ though."

"Who? Voldemort?" Tim knits his brow.

Alfred makes a look as Jason hums at the taste of the waffle and as crumbs descend to the floor, "may I offer a plate to you sir?"'

"No thanks, Alfred," Jason says just as Dick walks into the kitchen, sweaty from a work out. I lick my lips at the sight of him, thinking of the taste of his blood. _Wait, shit, shut up._

"All of this for me?" Dick huffs, leaning against the counter, making Tim recoil from his sweaty form. Dick gets a plate and a fork, making Alfred nod softly to himself. He gets a waffle as I turn to Jason and wipe the corner of his lips with the pad of my thumb, as there was cream on it.

I move to wash my hand and speak, "Wasn't what I told you before not enough? It's literally all I know."

"Of whom?" Dick furrows his eyebrows.

"Ra's Al-Ghul," I say simply, making everyone in the room turn to me and freeze. I shrug and give back Jason a look, "what? I told you I don't know, definitely not personally. But I'm sure you'd agree everyone knows he's a psychopath."

Dick straightens upon hearing that. I have not told him of my recent encounter with Al-Ghul, but now we've established a bond where he trusts me. I'm sure he believes my words now.

And since we're on the topic anyway, I'm thinking in a few days, I'll fake my death and leave all my things to him, but I've still yet to tell Dick this. He's going to overreact so I have to ease it into him.

"Fine," Jason points, "if you're telling the truth then why did you want to hide the fact you saw him at the bar?"

"Uh, two things, 1- he's a psychopath, don't want to cross paths with him, 2- it's not hard to know you have dealt with him when he's tried to destroy Gotham on multiple occasions. If you saw him, you might have listened to your fist as opposed to reason."

Tim squints his brows at my reasoning, while I shrug and knowingly head for Bruce who was going to go into the kitchen. He stops in front of me and I offer my wrists to him, "As my house arrest is over, and I'm sure you still don't trust me, I volunteer to go to prison instead of going to the office with you again."

Bruce sighs and sidesteps away from me, but I continue to block him. He gives look as I raise my wrists higher.

"You barely stayed inside the manor," Bruce notes, to which I make an annoyed sound, "I literally stayed with Alfred the entire time! We were having a photo shoot in the street!"

 _"Outside the manor,"_ Bruce chuffs, making me clench my jaw as he walks past me. I groan, "You're all as petty as each other. It's not like I was going to run away. Right Alfred?"

Alfred turns to me, "No madam."

"See!""

"Stop encouraging her," Bruce says, getting a plate of waffles.

"Father," Damian says, walking in, "there's a Mr. Hilario outside for you. He's drives a vintage car, looks like a total douche."

Bruce leaves his food as I give Damian a look for his language. He catches his and shrugs. I roll my eyes at him and tell him to get a plate of waffles.

"I'll make some beverages," Alfred announces as Bruce goes for the door.

I give him a look as he walks away, "your laces are untied."

"I don't have laces," he retorts.

I turn to Alfred, "I didn't run away though. Why would I when we were having so much fun?"

Alfred manages a barely audible chuckle, "Don't fret, madam, he'll put you in college soon enough."

My heart slowly burns at that. I turn to Dick who was already looking at me. I breath in deeply. Doing so then alerts me that there is indeed another person inside the manner, and he was someone that I have actually encountered before.

Out of curiosity, I go off to where Bruce and Mr. Hilario was. By the time the two were walking off to I suppose Bruce's office, I catch sight of them and I instantly recognize Mr. Hilario.

"Adalgiso?" I break into a chuckle of disbelief as the said man drops his jaw and reels slightly backward.

He says my name, the same name I am using now, which makes me both relieved and concerned. Relieved because I wouldn't get compromised; concerned because this is truly another sign that I need to disappear into the shadows now.

_"What kind of luck do I have?"_ he mutters under his breath in Portuguese. I walk towards him as he begins to chuckle. He meets me halfway and places a kiss on both my cheeks, and I do the same for him.

"You got a haircut."

"And you look just as radiant as when we met in São Paolo." Adalgiso shakes his head as he smirks. He knits his brows and turns from me to Bruce, "tell me, how do... you two know each other?"

Bruce begins to shift into a harder stance, his expression and his body language stiffen. I offer a smile to Adalgiso, "It's a long story. I'm like a family friend."

He hums, "But, uh, you two are not... together?"

I raise a brow and feel horrified at his question, because I sense the Wayne sons own horror at the question from where they were spying from the other room. I shake my head, "No. No. I'm just here on a holiday. Mr. Wayne is the most generous host."

Adalgiso relaxes and nods, "That's good. Very good. We should catch up after Mr. Wayne and I have a talk."

I catch how Bruce's face twitches. I shake my head and chuckle, "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm sure you're busy, as am I. And I don't want to keep you, so..." I wave and turn about.

"Wait," Adalgiso calls, but a smile over my shoulder silences him.

Bruce lets out a breath before Adalgiso turns to him, "I was told I'd get lucky with you, Mr. Wayne. Now I am willing to believe it more than anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hi i just realized that i posted chapter 23 twice uhhh idk why but i deleted it thank you goodbye


	24. Pulling Strings Is My Favorite Pastime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet, sorry it took so long to update
> 
> also nothing much happens but i'll make up for it in the next chappie  
> i promise
> 
> also if I have typos lhsd;as;dasdoh i am sorry

It was warm, the air was salty, and the sand in between my toes were welcomed.

I was laid on my back in a tiny bikini, wishing it would be possible to get tanned. I new it wasn't, but I like to think I can do these things at least. I decided to leave the sun, because it would be suspicious if I came back pale as ever even after basking in the UV rays for a long time.

So I went to the beach bar and asked for a martini. It was there this man came up to me and struck up a conversation. He introduced himself a as Adalgiso, and mentioned he owned the resort I was staying at, to obviously impress me. I smiled and told him I owned Brasil, and he laughed, saying he believed me.

Calm down, I lied one time.

After that, he asked if he could take me to dinner. I agreed. He took me to a private spot at his resort. He called me pretty and starry-eyed in Portuguese, and I laughed him off.

Then that was it.

  


"That's it?" Tim demanded after I finished telling the brothers on how I met the man who was with their father currently.

"Did you keep contact with him after?" Dick asked.

I shook my head.

"He fell in love with you in one date. Lame-ass." Jason snorted, crossing his arms. I gave him a look, "you fell in love with me in less than an hour, kid."

Jason pulled his head back and stuttered, taken aback. Damian sniggered. Dick rolled his eyes.

"What does he want with father?" Damian then asks.

I shrug, "How should I know? You're the one who answered the door."

"He's suspicious," Jason makes a face. I pull my head back and shake my head, "no, he's an entrepreneur like your father. _You're_ the ones who are suspicious."

"Ha! Jokes on you, I take that as a compliment." Tim pointed.

"Honestly, I do not understand why it is you're all making a fuss."

Dick makes an exasperated sound, taking up his waffle and finishing it off, "obviously, he's interested in you and they're jealous, _threatened_ to have to share the attention again."

"And you're not, Dick?" I tease, giving him a look, "I can practically smell the envy from off of you."

Dick remains silent.

  


Bruce and Adalgiso make their way into the office room. There is a thick air between the two men, however, you could say it was mostly on Bruce's part. The man who owned the manor decided to act like the previous encounter in the hall meant nothing.

They begin to slip into the pre-discussed business matter. Bruce highlights the parts he is in favor of, including the ones he is concerned about.

Adalgiso begins to explain an soothe the concern. Bruce isn't having it though, and it clearly tells him Adalgiso is a man who does whatever he needs to get what he wants.

Bruce hums, "I think that if we talk about it with the board of directors, we'll come to a good compromise."

"Alright," Adalgiso nods. He quickly points, "I'll show myself out, I want to talk to our friend."

Bruce's brow raises slightly. He gives a smile, "No need, I'll walk you to her."

The other man gives an apprehensive look, but he's not really in any position to decline. The two then make their way to the kitchen.

  


  


Bruce and Adalgiso make their way towards us. Adalgiso gives me a smile, and instantly, I feel bitter hormones fill the air, mostly sourcing from the youngest. I can't help but turn to Damian and caress his cheek in concern. He relaxes slightly because of this.

"Have you eaten yet?" I ask Adalgiso. He shakes his head, and so I offer a plate to him. "I cooked it myself."

"I didn't know you cooked," he notes.

I decide not to reply and instead hand him a plate of waffles. He takes it gratefully, speaking to me in Portuguese, _"you know I looked for you a lot when you left me in São Paolo."_

I shrug, _"would you like an apology for it?"_

_"How about dinner?"_

_"Sorry, but she promised me dinner today,"_ Damian buts in, blurting in the same language we were speaking, throwing a look like daggers to the man. Jason is throwing a look to, while Dick is holding back a laugh.

  


Adalgiso is unaffected. He in fact laughs, turning to Bruce, "how many languages did you get your children to speak?"

"Enough," Bruce speaks flatly.

Adalgiso nods and turns back to me. He forfeits the Portuguese, "can I have your phone number so I can contact you when you are available?"

"I'd really rather not," I say, shaking my head. His face falls at that. Bruce turns to the side to hide his expression. I can hear how pleased he is though.

"If you want though, I can drive you back," I offer.

"Actually, I bought my car. I can drive _you_ ," Adalgiso counters. I chuckle, "I have my own car."

"But _we_ have unfinished business."

I raise a brow, "is it too unsettling to leave it at that?"

He leans in and nods, "Too. Unsettling."

I can't help but chuckle, feel a tinge of flattery from his words. It helps my ego when the putrid smell of jealousy fills the air. I can feel Bruce trying to pull himself together; part of me wants to see how long he can keep it collected.

  


"Okay," I nod and go over to Adalgiso. I give a look to Bruce, "I'll be going out now, Mr. Wayne."

"What?" Damian snaps, turning to his father, awaiting a protest.

Adalgiso is wholly smug. Dick is audibly annoyed to me.

"You can't go out with him," Jason snaps. I offer a look and humor him by asking, "and why not?"

"Because--" "Jason," Bruce calls his son's name. He then turns from the boy to me, "I trust we're still on for tonight?"

  


Tonight? We had nothing tonight?

I chuckle.

How petty.

I fake an expression and nod, "of course, darling. I'll only pick something up and be back before you know it."

Bruce nods, "I'll be heading out too." He then turns to his sons, "you lot should get going as well."

  


Adalgiso reeks of triumph and offers his hand to me, "Shall we?"

I take his hand. I swear I hear someone's blood boil. "Off we go."


	25. Kiss Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been hiding from everyone huhuhuhhuhuuh
> 
> idk what i was supposed to do with Adalgiso but this is what is happened now oh well
> 
> MERRY ALMOST CHRISTMAS PLEASE WEAR A MASK AND WASH UR HANDS I LOVE YOU ALL

The drive I have with Adalgiso is filled with vibrant blue chitchat. It's engaging and bright, but it's very friendly. He tries to add some red into the conversation, but I take the red in my hand and scoop it out.

 _"You're driving me crazy,"_ he exclaims as he takes a turn and makes his way to the uptown area of Gotham, with all the bright lights and high end fashion store. I turn to him and smile, replying only with my eyes and not my voice. As I look to him, I see a small child in front of a large store with wide windows, looking inside longingly. The child smells like melted ice cream, and she was holding her mother's hand, who was on the phone with her baby daddy.

I sighed and turned front again, pointing left, to where I needed to head.

Adalgiso turns the car left and we make our way to the shop I meant to buy some socks.

* * *

"I DID IT!" Damian exclaimed, running from wherever he came from, into the living room where Dick was already playing videogames and where Tim and Jason where brooding.

Damian is out of breath due to the sheer excitement and determination he had to expose whatever he found.

Alfred and Bruce where not in the room currently.

"What did you do?" Tim asked, half-annoyed, not really caring about whatever it was Damian found.

"I OPENED ONE OF HER SUITCASES!"

Tim and Jason's conversation, whatever it was, stopped, and they both straightened up and turned their full attention to their youngest. Damian heaves and goes to the coffee table, placing what he deemed the most interesting object from the pile on the surface for further scrutiny.

It was a scrapbook.

Dick died in his videogame at this point and huffed. When he caught view of his brother, a gear clicked in his head, and suddenly he exclaimed, "Wait- _what?"_

Damian looks like he was foaming in the mouth. He nearly ripped the browning object open. Dick, catching this, nearly had a heart attack, thinking the small, thick, decaying things in it was probably older than all of them combined, even including this manor.

"WHAT THE HELL!" Dick called.

Tim and Jason ran towards Damian, who was pulling out photographs and pieces of paper here and there.

"Who the hell..." Tim gawks, grabbing one picture of something he could not distinguish. To be fair, it was almost purely just a black and white photograph; is it even fit to be called a photograph? Tim decides it's the oldest photograph he's ever seen.

Damian rips a piece of paper stuck on the page of the scrapbook. Dick feels ten years of live leave his soul, "DAMIAN WHAT THE HELL!"

"IT WAS STUCK!"

"YOU ARE LITERALLY SO RECKLESS WHAT THE HELL!" Dick charges and tries to regain photographs in Damian's grip with much care.

Damian and Dick have stare down, but eventually, the latter wins the round. When Dick was about the put those things back where it came from, he found that the scrapbook was already in the paws of Jason, who was intensely reviewing every page.

"There's a recurring theme," Jason notes. He then pulls out a picture from the page, "this guy."

 _'This guy' was_ specifically a photograph of a blonde man in a suit, which a blonde child on his shoulders.

"There are also some Russian letters here," Jason notes. Damian perks up, "GIVE ME IT!"

Dick feels his blood pressure rise.

"What are you doing?" Bruce walks in the room.

"I'M PRETTY SURE SHE HAS A KID SOMEWHERE IN SAINT PETERSBURG!" Tim exclaims, pulling up a letter, reading the first few lines of it in Russian.

Bruce translate it aurally, _"There is a tailor shop in the west side of Romanov boulevard."_

"SEE! It's a rendezvous point!"

Damian squints as he takes in another photo of the same blonde man who was, in this specific photo, standing in the middle of a street with an umbrella open, although there was no rain. He speaks, "maybe she's a spy."

"From what? The second world war? Yeah right, this has to be smuggled artifacts or something," Jason scoffs.

Bruce takes the scrapbook and takes one glance at it, before closing it, "okay, that's enough for today."

"FATHER SHE HAS AN ENTIRE SUITCASE OF THINGS LIKE THIS."

"I am aware."

"Wait," Tim starts, "do you mean you are aware that she has these things, or that you have already _seen_ these things."

"I mean I _am_ aware." Bruce stresses, turning about and leaving.

Damian mutters, "I fucking hate that guy."

Bruce raises a brow and stops in his tracks.

Damian stutters, "SORRY SIR."

Bruce says nothing and continues on.

* * *

I bought three 100$ socks and was supposed to exit the store, up until I smelled pleasingly soft fabric by the doors. I thought it was much more softer socks than what I already bought, but it was not. It was why I stood in front of shelves of baby clothes for three minutes straight without a word.

It would've lasted longer had Adalgiso not interrupted me.

 _"Are you interested in baby clothes?"_ he asks in Portuguese in both half a teasing and half a panicked tone.

I frown, thinking of the child I saw outside, thinking of David, my beloved baby.

 _"Is it bad I want a baby?"_ I mumble softly, turning to the man beside me.

He takes a moment to reply then smirks, _"we can have a baby, my dear."_

My deflated attitude subdues slightly, _"you cannot handle having a baby with me, Adalgiso."_

_"And what, you think Bruce Wayne can?"_

I am taken aback by his sudden remark and I can't help but laugh breaking our Portuguese, "who ever said that?"

"Well, why are you staying with him?"

I raise a brow, "This is my choice but I hardly think that is your business."

"I don't think he is good for you."

"Mmm, and you know Mr. Wayne so well?"

 _"I know men like him,"_ Adalgiso starts in his mother tongue again. I laugh once more. I place a hand on his cheek, "I'm ready to go home now."

* * *

"THEY'RE BACK!" Jason exclaims upon seeing the car pull up from the CCTV footage on his phone.

Damian and Jason run towards him and Dick sighs. Damian clicks his tongue and pulls up the footage on the TV screen.

Adalgiso walks me to the front door, "when can I see you again?"

"Never."

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH SICK BURN!" the boys holler.

Adalgiso chuckles and shakes his head, "I'm not leaving if I can't see you again."

"Well, you can live here as a gardener for the rest of your life, but even I will actually be leaving soon."

He takes this statement seriously, "when and where are you going?"

"Somewhere far, far away."

"I somehow hate that."

I smile, "well, I guess I can say sorry, if it'll make you feel better."

"NO! DO NOT KISS HIM!" Jason points at the TV screen as the two they were watching move closer to each other.

I smell bitterness in the air, and quickly, the front door is creaked open. Then comes out Bruce Wayne.

Adalgiso and he turn to each other. I snort and give Adalgiso a peck on the lips, _"Tchau."_

The man brings his hands to his lips and stutters, "what?"

I smile, "I said goodbye, Adalgiso."

"WHY DID YOU KISS HIM!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT THIS CHAPTER PLEASE DO TELL ME I WILL EVENTUALLY REPLY TO ALL THE COMMENTS I HAVE BEEN HIDING FROM HUHHUHHU


	26. I Have To Die

I raise a brow at Jason who had just screamed behind his father. Bruce's face was blank but I could tell his ears were ringing because of the shrill sound.

I turn to Adalgiso and give him one last look of regard before going inside, past Bruce and Jason only to have my nose ring and my stomach drop at the smell that was lurking in the atmosphere. I hurry off to where it sourced freeze in my spot when I see Damian, carelessly fondling through my album, as he is being chased around my Dick, who seemed to want to retrieve it from him.

Tim is reading a letter of mine from what looks to be 1942.

I clench my jaw, "what in the world is this?!"

Tim turns to me and his heart pound. I smell his anxiety but it fuels my anger.

I tighten my fists and release a breath. I feel Bruce Wayne creep behind me. He mutters, "Adalgiso has left."

I turn to him and point, "you just let them go through my stuff?" I groan and take his bicep in my hand and squeeze, "geez I knew you morons would go through my stuff but I at least thought you'd do it behind my back and treat my shit with care!

"You do realize that if you sold these to the right people you could get two manors, excluding the one you own now?!" I frame, in order not to look suspicious.

It was no lie; if they contacted my brother right now, he would give them much more than that, honestly.

Damian, who had still a scrapbook in hand, stilled and I realized he pressed too hard on Dima's picture, potentially damaging it permanently.

My hear hurts at the idea of never seeing that photo again, but, what was the point when he was long dead anyway?

I sigh and storm past them, heading for my room.

_"Shit, shit, shit, shit, she's wearing shoes inside she's so damn pissed,"_ Dick mutters.

Bruce can't help but scoff. Somehow he is offended bu the tantrum, even though they _were_ in fact snooping.

As I made my way back to my room, I started feeling conflited. Why on earth was I letting myself slip like this?

I slow down my pace a fraction, but march back to my room anyway.

I enter the room and find my suitcase opened in the middle. Damian's finger prints are everywhere, and I find that he was disinterested in the knick knacks and aimed for my paperworks.

He also unknowingly cracked the delicate rattle I still had with me. I remembered my daughter for whom I bought this. I feel my throat tighten. I close the suitcase and stand, making my way out if the room. 

But of course, the moment I come out I find Bruce there, making his way to me.

I nearly growl, "if you want my stuff just tell me so I can explain to you what it is and your sons won't have to decipher Russian."

"What's in the other suitcases?"

"The same stuff that one has, and files about the other mafia idiots in Gotham. You're welcome to have it at this point."

Bruce knits his brows, "did Adalgiso hurt you?"

I pull my head back and scoff, "you honestly think at this point my problem is Adalgiso, when you went through my stuff?"

"We've been through your stuff before and you never batted a lash? What's the difference? Who are the people in your file?"

"Dead people! They're people who I like to look at because they remind me of better times, but they don't know me!"

_And that was the sad truth._

Bruce is not satisfied. He steps forward and presses, "something happened today with Adalgiso."

I feel my lips curve in a smile at disbelief, and roll my eyes, "you want to pretend your family is not to blame for my downward spiral?"

He clicks his tongue, "you bought baby clothes."

I can't help but feel caught off guard.

I did not. I did not buy baby clothes.

For goodness sake, Adalgiso was the one who bought in my bags, and he probably gave them to Bruce, which was why he had a look.

"Except they weren't on the receipt," Bruce continues.

My fallen face contort to amusement, "you think I'm a hormonal psycho who has baby fever? That shoplifted baby clothes?"

"No. I think you miss your baby."

I shake my head, "I don't have a baby."

"You had one."

I blink, "and how would that make a difference even if it were true?"

"It's why you want to get away so badly, and why you don't want people going through your stuff."

"Okay genius, but as you've established, you've already went through my stuff and you think now that you've realized I may or may not have a kid, it's why I'm losing my cool? Does that honestly make sense to you? If I really did have a kid I should've been affacted by your snooping before you found out, if that's what you're getting at."

"But your brother doesn't want you kid."

And I can't help but laugh, "now you're just adding my stupid brother to the equation all willynilly."

"No. I read a letter from your brother who threatened to kill your children," Bruce says, pulling out something from his breast pocket. It was a piece of old paper inside a sealed ziplock plastic bag.

I couldn't smell anything but plastic.

My lips part.

"Again," Bruce says, "you're right, it doesn't really make sense, but I carbon dated this and it's 200 years old."

1865, Akir sent me a note and flowers in warning of his visit.

Bruce raises a brow, "It makes no sense either way."

 _This is impossible._ I remember burning it.

I turn to my hands and recall blistering my hands in anger of his threat.

**_Bruce was bluffing._ **

But he caught me all the same.

"You," I say, turning to him, "make me want to die."

Bruce is silent. I can't tell if he believes me or not.

I raise a brow, "believe what you want, because you have never believed me anyway."


	27. Akir

And yes, perhaps going back to my room and sleeping right after was not the best idea. I managed to change into a slip dress just so I could say if he came into my room, I was not affected by any of their stuff, even though I had clearly just cracked.

I was expecting to get woken up multiple times but somehow, I was allowed to sleep and was given no interrogations.

But it was the worst thing I could've done to myself, I realized. Although truly... since he had found me now, there was no way of hiding anyway.

I was lied back on my bed when I woke up in cold sweat though the window of my room was open and gushing in cold air. It was goodness knows what time. It was dark, and moonlight was nowhere either. Yet, he was there. I could see him. I could feel him. His skin was grey, his eyes were steel, his hair was longer now, it reached up to his shoulders. It was as thick and dark as it always was, and it was blowing with the eerie breeze he was conjuring up to terrify me. It was old, but it still made my heart pound. He made it a point not to wipe his face before his visit. There was blood dripping down his chin to his bare chest.

He was in nothing but a robe, a plain white silk robe to be exact. And he came to me from the dark end of the room, holding me down paralyzed with his mind. He stalked towards me and was crawling on top of me. His skin was freezing. His hands went to my thighs, pushing my dress up.

"You..." he breathes out deeply, with his guttural voice, "make yourself a whore for yet another man, sister."

I couldn't reply. He know I couldn't.

The blood on him drips to my face. It's warm.

"It took me a while to find you this time. It's thank to these imbeciles I caught your scent. Don't bother killing them in anger, because I'll make sure to do that myself when I come to you."

He stares at me for a moment and smirks, finally letting me speak.

_"Fuck you, Akir."_

His lips curve up and he slowly leans in towards me to lick the sweat on my neck, "your fear arouses me. I could easily give you another baby."

He presses his fingers on my hips. I wince when I begin to feel him break into my skin.

"But I'd much rather hang you upside down slit your throat and watch you bleed."

Akir pulls away, and I see that the blood on his face his smeared all over now. His hands then dart off to my neck, and he begins to press slowly up until I couldn't breath.

"You have 30 days to come to me, whore. Our sister has predicted your death from another's hand, and it was most unsavory. I do believe you'd rather not get tortured like you were by the church or the Nazis."

The moment he lets go of me, he disappears and I shoot up from my bed.

I get up and run. I make sure to get caught by Bruce who I could smell was still in insomniac limbo in his bedroom not too far from mine. I gallop heavily and make my way down the stairs. At this point, I know he is following me.

I run out of the manor. It's freezing cold.

I turn to the forest near not too far from here. I find my way through, listening in for water. I am barefoot, so I step on shards of rock and twigs and they cut my palms.

There is no river here, so I have to run all the way to the bay, and I took the most horrible route to get there.

Bruce calls for me like an idiot. I don't know how he can keep up when he is so tired.

He gets close enough to almost reach me. I make it a point he doesn't.

We find ourselves in the crossroads and there is a truck coming over to us. I'm not going to die like that. So I let it pass, hatefully letting Bruce get to me.

"Where the hell are you going!" he screams, catching his breath as he comes up to me. I can tell he thinks I'm running away, and not that I've become hazardously suicidal.

He thinks he can touch me and get me back to his home, but I dodge him and kick him in the gut. Once the truck passes with it's heavy sound, I continue running and manage to get down the avenue, which ends to the Gotham bay.

It's the worst way to die, but it's the cleanest way. I hate drowning, but it's harder solve and easier to get away with.

I run as fast as I can in human speed.

Then I jump into the water.

It takes a while, I pray Bruce is not fast enough to get to me.

He is. He jumps in without hesitation but he can't see in the dark.

He doesn't have gills, and he was already out of breath. If he is too desperate to save he will drown before I do.

I begin to lose my own breath and I pray that Bruce has enough brain not to die with me.

He does.

My chests feels like its about to burst.

I begin to panic underwater by the time Bruce gasps for air.

My ears pop. My airways are bombarded with water.

It all goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes congratulations this is yet another death for our protagonist


	28. Exposing What Goes On In The Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO HI HUHHHU
> 
> BEFORE YOU SCREAM AT ME FOR NOT UPDATING i made a video explaining how I'm going to delete this fic
> 
> NAH im kidding, i wouldnt do that to yall 🥺
> 
> Or wouldn't I HAHAHAH jk

"Okay, hear me out," Jason says in front of a camera. "I've got some 3am thoughts and I need answers," he says as he finishes adjusting the stand he propped his phone on.

He sighs, "I should probably do a live video to get real time answers, but I don't know if the comments will be saved."

Jason rubs his face, "anyway, point is, I've been reading this mystery manga and it wasn't in a good condition to begin with, and the end pages are gone, so I'm trying to figure out on my own what happened. I don't know the author either."

He folds his legs as he sits down on his bed, "okay, so, one of the main characters is a rich dude and there's this girl that begins to live with him. She's super sus though and I am pretty sure she's a vampire. One character in the manga thinks she's a vampire too but they're like 'oh you're crazy, vampires aren't real'. Uh hello, have you seen superman?

"Anyway, one of the characters find that the girl has like old stuff like antiques and they're oddly specific, to a point where you'd think someone who was keeping it actually owns them, which further just adds flame to the fire. The character that finds this tells the rich dude but he's all like 'I already knew that????', which is entirely stupid, cause like why hasn't he confronted her if he already knew? But anyway when she's confronted by the rich dude, she gets all pressed. The next day she's gone."

Jason turns from his hands to the camera, "where would you go, if you were a suspicious, most probably vampire lady? And do you think that she's a vampire?"

Jason rants a bit more, but ultimately posts a relatively short video that fits on twitter. He captions it, "please boost replies which r logical TY."

It goes viral in five minutes.

Dick sees the post after an added ten and rolls his eyes. He screams, "JASON!" And storms off to wherever the moron is.

"You absolute idiot, what the hell have you done?"

Jason whips his head to Dick, who was storming towards him, "I got second opinion." He points a finger to Dick, who swats it away. Jason vibrates in some sort of excitement, "I knew she was a a friggin vamp!"

Dick is instantly exasperated, "what's your point?'"

Jason fumes, "my point is I was right all along and you didn't believe me!"

Dick pinches the bridge of his nose, "I mean," he shoots his brother a glare, "what are you going to do now that public opinion has convinced you what you deemed to be true is fact? Magically find her and _unvampire_ her? Expose her to the world?"

"Pssh, if I wanted to expose her, I would've said her name."

Dick sighs, "you do know that the vast majority of internet users are idiots, but there are some that are on to you that the story of a rich person is actually you."

It was Jason's turn to roll his eyes.

Dick continues, "you literally were specific to a rich man and used superman to illustrate a point. Superman lives in Metropolis and is friends with our dad, you mega-mind!"

"Shut the hell up, it'll die soon enough!"

Dick scoffs, "not before dad sees it though."

Jason stills. It was in this moment, he knew, he messed up.

* * *

I coughed, choking out water. I groaned and turned over. I began to breathe again. I blink rapidly and adjust to the light. When I fully gain consciousness, I turn over from my belly and jolt when I fall from something.

I blink and realize it was a man; I've killed a man. He was in a suit and tastes like he was drunk and blunted. Dear goodness, I probably killed a businessman.

I assess his wounds and found he was relatively warm. I sigh and lick the puncture wound on his neck, making it disappear. I stand and assess the area. I was in some camping spot most likely. It smelled like barbeque a couple kilometers away. I find a rock, I bring it by the shoreline. I place it down there then I take the man by his arms and drop him down. There was a crack when his forehead collided with the rock. With his height and weight, he most definitely would've died.

A shriek makes me snap to the right. There is a hefty blonde woman who fell to her butt. I smile, _perfect._ Quickly, I wash my face and shake the water off. I rid of my slip dress as well and bunch it up in my palm. I run to her and shove her down, biting her from behind, careful not to get her wet or bloody. Her screams are pacified in moments. I lick her wounds and whisper, "you screamed in horror and tripped because you saw a washed up man, nothing more."

I hear calls and footsteps coming our way, so I pull away and fly off.


End file.
